Their Demons
by LuthienLossehelin
Summary: She was mage. He was a Templar. They had nothing in common except their own personal demons. Join the elfin mage, Morwen as she saves Thedas, and conquers her demons.
1. Chapter 1

Hello there Dragon Age world! Wow! I can't believe that I am starting this journey! I am really excited! First, I just want to say I own nothing of Bioware, or the characters in this chapter or the chapters following! Alright! Now that that is out of the way I hope you enjoy reading the adventures of Morwen and her companions. Comments and any helpful advice is appreciated!

ENJOY!

THE MARK

Morwen woke with a start as a jolt of intense pain shot up her left arm. Confused, the elf looked at her shackled hand. She saw an ominous green light emanating from her palm.

_Creators! _She thought. _How did I get this?_

Morwen attempted to cast a healing spell, but was met with resistance and another burst of pain. She grunted and withdrew her magic.

Looking around, the elf took in her surroundings for the first time. She was in a dimly lit passage with barred cells on either side of her. Four guards stood with their swords drawn and pointed at her. She was in some kind of dungeon.

_Where am I? How did I get here? _

Before Morwen could form an answer to her questions, the doors to the dungeon opened, and in walked a tall woman. She had short black hair and hard, determined eyes. As she entered the guards sheathed their swords and stood at attention. The woman glared at the small elf as she began to circle her.

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now." growled the woman in an accent Morwen did not recognize, "The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for...you."

At that last word, the dark haired woman stood directly in front of Morwen and gave her a pointed stare.

Morwen tried to take in what the woman was saying. _The Conclave? Yes. Keeper Deshanna had sent me to spy on the Conclave. The Mage-Templar war had been affecting the clan in the Free Marches. _Morwen remembered reaching the Conclave when...Nothing. She remembered nothing after that.

"Well?" the woman hissed.

Morwen realized what the woman was implying. Squaring her shoulders in defiance she glared back.

"You think I am responsible," she stated incredulously.

Reaching down, the woman brought Morwen's left hand to her eyes, "Explain this!"

The green light flared on Morwen's hand once more as she stared at it.

_How did I get this? Why can't I remember?_

"I-I can't," stammered the elf.

"What do you mean you can't?" demanded her interrogator as she began to circle her again like a vulture.

"I don't know what it is or how it got there!" Morwen defended,"I don't remember anything."

"Nothing?"

The prisoner thought hard. Images began to swirl in her mind. Images of a dark mountainside with green mist swirling amongst the boulders flashed before her eyes. Dark things were chasing her. Then a woman clothed in golden light appeared on a ledge above her. The woman was reaching down to her. Everything went blank after that.

"I remember running," struggled the elf, "There were things chasing me, and...a woman. She reached out to me, but then..."

Morwen could remember no more.

"You're lying!" shouted the woman as she grabbed Morwen by her collar.

"We need her, Cassandra," a voice spoke from the shadows.

A second woman appeared from a dark corner of the room. She was dressed in black robes that blended in with the shadowy room. A hood covered the stranger's face giving her a sense of mystery. Her entrance had gone unnoticed by both of the women.

"Solas believes that the mark is key to closing the rifts. He wants you to meet him with the prisoner at the nearest rift," the mysterious woman glanced once at Morwen before turning her gaze to Cassandra.

The Seeker sighed, "Go to the forward camp Leliana. I will take her to the rift."

Morwen glared at Cassandra as she removed the shackles from the small elf's wrists. She didn't like the idea of being this woman's prisoner, nor did she like this thing on her hand. _Creators, why could I not remember?_

As the two women moved out of the dungeon, Morwen couldn't help ask, "What _did _happen?"

"It...will be easier to show you," Cassandra answered as she opened the door to the outside.

Morwen gasped as an ominous green light reaching far into the sky met her eyes. It was a pillar of green swirling light the same color as the mark on her hand. The elfin mage stared at it in wonder.

"We call it the Breach," explained Cassandra. "It's a giant rift into the world of demons that grows every hour. It is not the only one, but it is the largest. It was caused by an explosion that destroyed The Temple of Sacred Ashes and everything within a mile of it."

Turning to the elf, Cassandra studied the slip of a girl. She wondered if she should tell her about the mark. The Seeker was still unsure if the elf was responsible, but she did deserve to know the truth.

"As the Breach grows so does the mark on your hand." Hesitating slightly she went on, "It...is killing you."

Morwen looked at the green light on her hand in fear, "Is there nothing to stop it?"

"Solas believes that the mark is the key to sealing the Breach. If the Breach is sealed your mark should stop growing. Whether that is possibly will be decided shortly. Come."

They walked purposefully through the streets of Haven heading towards the Breach. As they walked Morwen noticed the people glaring menacingly at her.

_They think I did this, _She thought. _They think I destroyed the Conclave and killed all those people. How quick they are to judge. They haven't even gathered all the facts, yet they are ready to burn me at the stake for an act I did not commit. At least I don't think I committed it. Why can't I remember what happened?_

As if reading the elf's thoughts Cassandra spoke, "The people have decided your guilt. They need it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia. Head of the Chantry. The Conclave was her idea. It was a chance for peace between mages and Templars. She brought their leaders together, and now they are dead."

Cassandra regarded the elf beside her, "There will be a trial. I can promise no more."

Morwen nodded to the Seeker. They moved silently through the gates of Haven.

"How did I survive?" queried the elf.

"They say that you...stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious." Cassandra paused and then continued, "They say that a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was."

As they walked, a blast from the Breach exploded in front of the two women knocking them to the ground. A demon appeared from the rift and began to advance on them.

"Stay behind me," the Seeker shouted as she charged the foul creature.

Suddenly, a demon appeared before Morwen. Looking around, she found a staff lying not far from her the ground, dropped by some scared mage perhaps.

She somersaulted towards the staff as the demon charged her. Grasping the staff in her hands, she began to hurl ice spells at the demon. The beast wailed in pain but continued it's charge. Morwen had to leap out of its reach several times as it charged. Spinning and jumping, Morwen sent several attacks at the demon in quick secession. The death blow came when the mage sent a chain of lightning at the demon's chest. With a final screech the monster lay dead.

Turning to help the Seeker, Morwen watched as Cassandra dealt a killing blow to the demon she had been battling.

Cassandra approached Morwen with her sword pointed at the mage, "Drop your weapon. Now!"

Morwen looked at her in disbelief, "A demon attacked me! What was I supposed to do?"

"You don't need to fight," growled Cassandra.

"Are you saying it won't happen again?" demanded Morwen. Defiance gleamed in her eyes as she held fast to the staff.

Cassandra sighed and sheathed her sword, "You're right. You don't need a staff, but you should have one. I cannot protect you."

The Seeker turned and began to walk away when she hesitated and looked back at the mage, "I should remember that you did not try to run."

Once more they pressed on in silence. Morwen began to realize the situation that she was in. She was a Dalish elf caught at a place that she was not welcome. To top that off she was a mage. The suspicion that the Seeker and those in Haven showed her was not ungrounded. It infuriated her. She did not like being at the mercy of the shemlin.

They ran up some stairs that were once a part of the outer buildings leading to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Now the walls lay in waste and ruin. Parts even stilled burned from the explosion the Breach caused. Morwen could hear fighting. Coming to the top of the stairs, she saw a dwarf with a crossbow and an elfin mage fighting the demons coming out of the rift.

"We must help them," Cassandra shouted as she charged the nearest demon.

Morwen stood in the back, sending wave after wave of fire, ice, and lightning spells at the demons. Her staff whirled in a blur of motion as she cast her spells.

As the last demon fell, the other elf ran over to her and grabbed her hand.

"Quickly," he yelled pointing her hand at the rift, "before more come through."

The mark on Morwen's hand jumped to life as it sent a stream of green light towards the rift. The stream of light and the rift connected for a brief moment before an explosion rang out, and the rift disappeared.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello, Readers! I hope everything is going well. I just want to give all of you a notice that I will probably only be posting a chapter a week. This is because I am currently working two jobs, and planning my wedding. I hope to post more often after the wedding. Thank you for reading my fanfic!

A big shoutout to asteracaea for all of your help editing! I wouldn't be able to do this without you.

Commetns and helpful critiques are welcome!

CLOSING RIFTS

Morwen pulled away from the strange elf in confusion.

"What did you do?" she asked suspiciously.

"I did nothing," the elf stated calmly. "The credit is yours."

She looked at her hand in surprise, "You mean this?"

"Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark on your hand," he explained further. "I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened on the Breach's wake. It would appear that I was correct."

The elf seemed almost proud that he had guessed correctly. Morwen noted the smug smile he had while speaking.

Cassandra moved towards the elves, "Meaning it could close the Breach itself."

"Possibly," he responded and then looked at Morwen, "It seems you hold the key to our salvation."

Morwen glanced at her hand feeling slightly overwhelmed. This mark on her hand could close the Breach and save Thedas. Suddenly, it felt as if the world were placed on her shoulders.

"Good to know," the dwarf spoke up. "Here I thought that we'd be ass-deep in demons forever."

Walking up to Morwen, he bowed and introduced himself, "Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and occasional unwelcome tagalong."

At that last part he glanced at Cassandra, giving her a wink. She glared at him, but remained silent.

Morwen studied the dwarf, wondering why he was here.

"Are you with...the Chantry?" she asked.

"Is that a serious question?" scoffed the other elf.

Varric laughed and replied, "Actually, I am a prisoner like you."

"I brought you here to tell the Divine your story," defended Cassandra, "That is no longer necessary."

Sensing a fight, Morwen cut in, "That's...a nice crossbow you have there."

Varric looked pleased as he glanced at the crossbow, "Isn't she? Bianca and I have been through a lot together."

Morwen couldn't help the slight laugh that escaped her, "You named your crossbow Bianca?"

"Of course," Varric replied with pride, "and she'll be great company in the valley."

"Absolutely not," the Seeker interjected. "Your help is appreciated Varric but..."

"Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker?" Your soldiers aren't in control anymore." With a sly grin, Varric added, "You need me."

Cassandra walked away letting out a noise of disgust.

Morwen glanced at the elf and asked, "Are they always like this?"

He chuckled, "Worse."

She shook her head, glancing between the rogue and the warrior.

"My name is Solas. If there are to be introductions," the elf said after a moment's pause.

"Mine is Morwen. It is nice to meet you," the elf girl replied.

Cassandra glanced at them, "Like yourself, Solas is an apostate."

Morwen glared at Cassandra. She hated how the shemlin always seemed to make it sound as if her lifestyle was one of great evil. If it weren't for the situation that she was in, Morwen would have struck down the Seeker for saying such a thing.

Solas, seemingly unperturbed by Cassandra's statement, explained, "My travels have allowed me to learn much about the Fade. Far beyond the experience of any Circle. I came to offer whatever help I could give with the Breach."

Shock filled Morwen as he spoke. Solas had come willingly to help even when he knew what the shemlin thought of apostates. A flare of respect welled within her as she regarded him anew.

"We must get to the Breach quickly," the Seeker interrupted.

As they pressed forward, they were met with an increasing number of demons coming out of the rifts. Each new rift that they would encounter Morwen would close with the mark on her hand. Soon the four individuals began working as a team. Cassandra and Varric guarded Morwen on each flank as Solas covered the rear, thus allowing Morwen to get close enough to the rift to seal it.

Soon they began to hear the fighting of the soldiers ahead. As Morwen crested one of the many hills, she looked over the battle raging in the valley. Soldiers were battling the demons pouring out of a large, central rift. The men fought desperately; however, if the rift were not closed soon they would fail.

Morwen began her descent towards the rift when she saw him. He wielded a sword and shield with power and precision. A fierce lion helm sat upon his head, blocking the elf's view of his face. Completing his vicious ensemble were his pauldrons-a lion mane of ebony and scarlet. The demon with which he fought soon fell, and he turned to face a new enemy. She stiffened upon recognized his fighting style. It was Templar.

She almost ran. Memories poured into her at the sight of this one man. For a brief moment, she considered casting spells at him, but decided against it. Her staff was not powerful enough to do any damage.

"Hey, Stormy, what's the hold up?" Varric asked hoisting Bianca onto his shoulder, "Let's get these little bastards."

Pulling her gaze away from the man, the elf charged towards the rift, throwing ice and lightning spells at anything unfortunate enough to cross her path. Once close enough to the rift, Morwen raised her hand and released the stream of light towards the rift. With a loud crash, the rift closed.

Hearing the sound, Cullen turned to where the rift used to be. Standing in its place was an elf with long, raven black hair. She held a staff in her right hand and the left flared with the ethereal power of the mark. He recognized her as the prisoner that his men had found leaving the Fade.

Cullen approached Cassandra, "Lady Cassandra, you managed to close the rift. Well done."

Cassandra looked at Morwen and sighed, "Do not congratulate me, Commander. This was the prisoner's doing."

Cullen gazed in shock at the slight elf that stood before him, "Is it? I hope they're right about you. We've lost a lot of good people getting you here."

He watched as silver eyes met his golden brown ones. Those eyes held defiance and distrust. She crossed her arms and glared menacingly at him.

Cullen wondered what he did to cause her to glare at him so. Shrugging, he turned to Cassandra, "The way to the Temple should be clear."

"Then we best move quickly," replied the Seeker. "Give us time, Commander."

Cullen nodded and glanced one more time at the elf, "Maker watch over you, for all our sakes"

The small party moved through burning rubble towards the stairs leading down to the Temple entrance. As they moved through the passageway, a horrific sight met their eyes. Burned corpses lay scattered on the ground.—the look of horror and pain frozen on their faces.

Morwen had to hold back a cry as she viewed these bodies. I should be one of those burnt corpses, she thought sadly. Why did I survive when the others did not? What could possibly have caused an explosion that can wreak such destruction?

They entered the main room where a giant rift swirled menacingly. It reached far into the sky towards the Breach.

"I hope you have a plan for getting me up there," Morwen grumbled to Cassandra.

Solas was the one to reply, "No, this rift was the first, and it is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach."

Morwen moved cautiously towards the rift. She watched for signs of demons, but there didn't seem to be any. Suddenly, a voice spoke from the rift.

"Now is the hour of our victory," the voice was low and ominous. "Bring forth the sacrifice."

The party froze, glancing surreptitiously amongst themselves, trying to discover the owner of the voice.

"Hold the sacrifice still," it said.

A second voice joined the first, yelling, "Someone, help me!"

"That is Divine Justinia's voice!" Cassandra shouted as she ran closer to the rift.

"What's going on here," a third voice demanded.

Morwen gasped in surprise. That was her voice! Why was she hearing her voice? What was happening?

Images appeared in the sky. A dark figure with burning red eyes stood before the Divine. She was bound in crimson chains of malice and magic. Morwen saw an image of herself appear to the left as if entering the room.

"Run while you can!" pleaded the Divine. "Warn them!"

"We have an intruder," the burning eyes turned to regard the trespasser. "Slay the elf."

Just as quickly as the images had appeared in the sky, they were gone; and Cassandra was upon Morwen like a tiger.

"You were there?" the tall woman snarled. . "Who attacked? Was this vision true?"

The small elf squared her shoulders defiantly and glared at the Seeker, "I don't remember."

The two women stood toe to toe, each glaring at the other, neither willing to back down.

"Echoes of what happened here," Solas interjected. "The Fade bleeds into this place. The rift is closed, albeit temporarily. I believe that the rift can be reopened, and then closed properly. However, doing so will draw attention from the other side."

"That means demons," Cassandra growled. "Everyone, take your positions."

Morwen advanced towards the rift, lifting her left hand and allowing the mark to connect. The moment the rift was reopened, a huge ogre-like demon barreled through the rift.

Morwen backed up as the monster turned its eyes on her. It let out a terrifying scream as it charged. She sidestepped it with ease, casting a myriad of spells as it stumbled forward. Its lumbering mass made it difficult for the demon to move swiftly, thus allowing the party members assault it.

Cassandra was the one to deal the death-blow to the ogre demon. She had thrust her sword deep into the midsection of the beast, pushing all the way to the hilt of her sword. The monster let out one last cry before falling dead.

"Now," she yelled, "seal the rift."

Morwen ran towards the rift holding her hand high. The light from the mark connected with the rift as sparks of green light flew between the rift and her hand. The group held their breath as they watched, waiting and hoping that the rift and Breach would close.

A giant explosion knocked all of them from their feet! Morwen flew backwards, and hit her head on a rock. Blackness enveloped her.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello readers! Let me just say that this chapter was a problem child. I don't know about the rest of you, but Chancellor Roderick annoys me to no end! I keep trying to remind myself that he redeems himself in the end. It is proving very difficult.

I also want to warn you that there is some deviation from the game cannon. I hope you enjoy chapter three!

THE INQUISITION

Her eyes fluttered as she woke with a groan. Fenedhis! This is becoming a bad habit… she thought as she opened her eyes. I can't keep passing out. People will think that I am weak!

Morwen took in her surroundings. The bed she on which she lay was in the far left corner of the room, while a desk sat on the opposite side. Odds and ends lined the right wall. She had no idea where she was or how she got there.

The door to the room opened, interrupting her observations, and an elf servant crept inside Seeing Morwen awake startled the girl, and she dropped the small crate that she was carrying.

"Oh," she exclaimed looking at Morwen in fear, "I didn't know you were awake. I swear!"

Morwen regarded the lass with interest, not understanding what would cause the other elf to fear her.."

However, the second Morwen began to speak, the elf fell to her knees, visibly shaken, and pleaded, "I beg your forgiveness, and your blessing. I am but a humble servant. You are back in Haven, my lady."

Morwen sat up slowly on the bed, eyes narrowed, watching the elf's strange behavior.

"They say you saved us," the servant explained. "The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand."

The mage glanced down at her hand and noticed that, though the green mark was still present, it was no longer shooting shocks of pain up her arm, nor had the size gotten any larger.

"It's all anyone has talked about for the last three days."

Three days? The mage thought. I've been unconscious for three days!

"I should inform Lady Cassandra that you've awaken. 'At once,' she said," the servant hastily stood.

"Where is she?" Morwen asked as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

"She's in the Chantry. With the Lord Chancellor," the elf girl answered as she backed further towards the door. "'At once' she said."

The elf bolted out the door with alacrity as though demons were on her very heel. Morwen sighed, grimacing as she ran her hands through her matted hair. She cast quick glimpses around her, wondering if there was a brush nearby. Though not very vain about her appearance the elf did not want to appear before the Seeker and Lord Chancellor looking like death warmed over. She rummaged through several of the crates sitting along the wall before she discovered the item she needed. Skillfully, she combed through the tangles and braided the ebony strands.

Satisfied that her appearance was adequate, she opened the door leading to the outside. Squinting from the sun's bright rays, Morwen glanced at the sky. The Breach stilled swirled in the sky. So many questions raced through her mind, the most prominent of these questions being what was going to happen to her.

Moving towards the Chantry, Morwen noticed that the people were stopping what they were doing to come stare at her.

"That's her," one woman whispered, "The Herald of Andraste."

The Herald of Andraste? What do they mean?

"She's the one that stopped the Breach from growing," a man said to his neighbor.

The elf picked up her pace, hastening towards the Chantry. She needed to find Cassandra. She needed answers, and the whispers of the town folk were not helping the elf.

Bursting through the doors to the Chantry, the elf paused. This was the place where those who believed in the Maker came to worship him. Morwen couldn't help but shiver as she passed through the cold and uninviting vestry. The torches cast eerie shadows along the stone walls and she felt as though the walls would close in around her, imminently. The dark, damp atmosphere of the Chantry did nothing to make the elf feel at ease. She wondered how people could worship in this place.

The elves were unable to build temples to their gods, yet Morwen knew that if the elves could they would be beautiful buildings full of nature and light. They would be a place where one could feel connected to the Creators, not separate from them within a prison of cold, empty halls.

Voices, heated and grating, echoed from within a closed door at the other end of the hall. Curious, Morwen walked towards the door.

"She should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes Divine," an angry male voice said from the other side of the door.

Morwen moved closer, certain that she was the topic of discussion. Taking a deep breath to quell the anger rising in her, Morwen opened the door.

The moment the Lord Chancellor spotted the elfin mage he glowered at her.

"Chain her," he growled to the soldiers standing at the door.

Cassandra's gaze shot daggers at the Lord Chancellor and she commanded the soldiers to leave them. Obediently, the soldiers bowed to Cassandra and left the room.

Morwen watched them leave before stepping further inside. Silver eyes shot angry daggers at the man, robed in the garb of the Chantry, standing challengingly before her.

Her glare did nothing to quell his ravings. Dark eyes turned again to Cassandra, "You walk a dangerous line, Seeker."

"The Breach is stable for now, but it is still a threat." the fierce woman defended.

Morwen had had enough, "I am standing right here. Stop talking like I'm not present."

Both people turned to face the elf. Chancellor Roderick looked mutinous, as though he grappled with the decision of simply marching the elf right out of the Chantry. Cassandra merely observed the elf in silence.

"I sealed the Breach, and it almost killed me," The mage murmured, scowling at Chancellor Roderick, "What more do you want to prove that I didn't kill the Divine?"

"Yet you survived," he sneered, "how convenient for you."

"I would be careful Chancellor," the Seeker interjected. "The Breach is not the only threat we face. Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone the Most Holy did not expect. They may have survived the blast, or they may have accomplices who still yet live."

"I am a suspect," Chancellor Roderick asked affronted.

Cassandra gave him a pointed stare, "You and many others."

"B-but not the prisoner," he spluttered, eyes widening in disbelief.

"I heard the Most Holy call out to her," Cassandra supported. "The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour."

Morwen looked at the Seeker incredulously. Just a few days ago, this woman had the mage thrown into a dungeon, threatening to kill her; and now, she was defending her. Why the woman would change her mind in her regards baffled her completely.

"Five minutes ago you wanted me dead," the elf sneered, "and now I'm your savior?"

Cassandra looked at Morwen, "I was wrong. Perhaps I still am. I will not; however, pretend that you were not exactly what we needed when we needed it. The Breach remains, and your mark is still our only hope of closing it."

"If you do this," Roderick threatened with gritted teeth, "you will lose the support of the Chantry."

The Seeker glanced between Morwen and the Chancellor, "So be it. The Inquisition will be reborn without the Chantry's support."

Chancellor Roderick scowled one last time at both women before storming out of the room.

Upon his exit, Leliana walked into the room followed by a dark haired, dark skinned woman in a ruffled dress. The woman behind Leliana had a pleasant smile on her face and bright, intelligent eyes, whereas Leliana's eyes were guarded, calculating, and her lips were pressed together in a thin line. Behind both of them was the man Morwen had met on the battlefield. He was dressed again in full armor with a scarlet cloak flowing behind him. Black and red pauldrons adorned his shoulders.

The elf had to take several deep breaths to control the panic that she felt at the man's entrance. Images from so long ago flashed unbidden through her mind. Biting the corner of her lip, Morwen struggled with herself to refrain from casting any spells at the man. Finally, battling to regain her composure, she turned her gaze to Cassandra in hopes that ignoring the man would ease her agitated nerves.

Creators, she prayed. Help me not do something that I will regret.

"I take it the meeting with Chancellor Roderick did not go well," stated Leliana.

Cassandra let out a disgusted noise, "Hardly. He has denounced the Inquisition. We will have no Chantry support."

"That complicates matters," observed the dark haired woman. Morwen had to listen closely, for, when the tanned woman spoke, her Antivan accent made it difficult for the elf to understand. "Without the Chantry's support it will be difficult to earn support for the Inquisition elsewhere."

"I'm sorry," Morwen cut in. "What is the Inquisition, and what part do all of you play?"

"It preceeded the Chantry," Leliana explained. "People banded together under one banner to restore order in a world gone mad. It was Divine Justinia who ordered the Inquisition reborn."

"As for your other question," Cassandra gestured to the woman in the ruffled dress, "this is Lady Josephine Montilyet. Our ambassador and diplomat."

"Andaran atish'an," greeted Josephine.

"You speak Elvhen," Morwen exclaimed in shock.

A half smile crossed the Antivan's face as she explained, "Unfortunately you just heard the entirety of it."

Morwen shrugged. She should not have gotten so excited. Shemlin rarely took time to learn her native tongue.

"You know Sister Leliana," continued Cassandra.

Leliana bowed, "My position here involves a degree of..."

"She is our spymaster," Cassandra interrupted.

Leliana frowned at the Seeker, "Tactfully put, Cassandra."

The Seeker took no notice as she motioned towards the man, "You've met Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition's forces."

Cullen smiled warmly at the elf, "It was only for a moment on the field. I'm pleased you survived."

Morwen met the Commander's gaze briefly before frantically turning her attention to the floor. Shuffling her feet, she bit her lower lip again and took a deep breath.

Cullen watched the slender elf shuffle nervously. She had only briefly met his gaze when introduced, and it confused him. While she had met Josephine and Leliana's gazes evenly when introduced, the girl seemed afraid to even spare a quick glance in his direction.

He studied her. She was short, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulders. Her raven black hair was in a braid draped neatly over her shoulder. On her face were Dalish markings. Cullen knew they had a name, but he could not remember what they were called. Most people just called them tattoos. Hers looked like a tree with its trunk starting on the bridge of her nose. The branches spread out covering her whole forehead and curving around her eyes along her high cheekbones. What little he had seen of her eyes, they were silver, and reminded him of the moon. Cullen was pulled from his staring when Morwen spoke.

"What part do I play in all of this?"

"The Breach remains," Cassandra responded, "and your mark is the only thing that can close it. Solas believes that with more power we can seal the Breach for good."

"And if I refuse to help?" queried the elf defiantly.

The four people stared at Morwen in disbelief.

"Why would you not want to help?" Josephine asked.

"This is not my fight. I want nothing to do with it," ranted Morwen. "I did not ask for this mark. The only reason I was at the Conclave was because your Templar and Mage war has affected my clan. I was sent to spy on the Conclave in hopes of learning any valuable information."

She took a breath before glaring singularly at each of them and continuing, "I will return to my clan immediately. My loyalties are not to any of you. It is my place to protect my clan not fight your battles."

Finished with her speech, the small elf spun on her heel with every intention of leaving when suddenly Leliana snapped, "Do you believe that hiding in some forest is going to protect you and your clan? There is more at stake here than just them."

Morwen faced the spymaster, her eyes shooting daggers at the red haired woman.

Leliana returned the glare undaunted, "All of Thedas is at stake. You leave and you risk the destruction of the world. You and your clan will not escape. Death and destruction will find even the most remote of elven clans."

"What of my clan's safety? I am Keeper Deshanna's First Apprentice. I cannot just abandon that."

"Whatever you were before the Conclave does not matter. If you truly want to protect your clan then stay. Close the Breach. If you don't, then all of Thedas will fall. The choice is yours," the spymaster reasoned.

Cullen watched as Morwen scowled at the spymaster, clearly warring within herself. He noticed that she was biting her lip, again. It seemed to be a habit that she had when faced with difficult decisions or doubts.

Looking Leliana in the eyes, Morwen announced, "I will stay, but I have some conditions. First, should my clan fall under any sort of attack the Inquisition will send forces to help, which I will lead personally. Second, word of my survival must be sent to them. I do not want them thinking that I died. Last, if you want me to fight, I'm going to need a better staff than the one I currently have. You will find that elves make the best staves so while you are informing my clan of my survival have them send me a staff. Those are my conditions."

"I believe we can work with those conditions," Cassandra agreed.

"Oh, and you're going to want this," Morwen reached within the folds of her tunic, pulling a chain from around her neck and handing Leliana an amulet of the goddess Mythal. "It will prove that you know me, and keep you from being shot on sight."

At that, Morwen turned and walked straight and proud out of the room. The remaining people looked at each other dumbfounded, wondering just what they had gotten themselves into with the elf.


	4. Chapter 4

I'm sorry. I couldn't resist a little tension between the Herald and everyone's favorite Commander. I promise all will be made clear in future chapters.

Extra brownie points to those who catch my movie reference!

Thank you to all of you who have favorited and followed my story!

Big shout out to asteracaea for all of your help editing! I couldn't do this without you!

SOLITUDE

Dusk had fallen on Haven. The people were mostly indoors enjoying a delicious meal. Laughter rang from the tavern, the people there entertaining themselves with songs and dancing. A full moon shone with its silver beams filtered through a growth of trees just outside of Haven. A small shadow moved swiftly through the shadows where the moon's beams did not reach.

Morwen sighed as she reached the small copse of trees. She could not stand one more moment within the confining walls of her room. It had been five days since Leliana had left to inform Clan Lavellan of Morwen's survival, and it would be at least another five days before the spymaster returned. The elf lifted herself into a tree, finding a comfortable bough and perching upon it.

She had spent the last five days since Leliana's departure attempting to avoid people. The citizens of Haven were polite, yet, in their eagerness to please the Herald of Andraste, they would often crowd the small elf. They offered her their assistance in anything that she needed. While kind, it was incredibly overwhelming, so Morwen took to hiding in her room most of the day. Tonight, however, she found she could not remain hidden within her self-imposed prison.

Leaning back against the tree, Morwen took a deep breath. It felt good to be in the trees again. True, this was far from the Free Marches, but it was the closest thing to home that she had.

As the small elf sat, her mind began to wander. A conversation from earlier that day crossed her mind. She had finally asked Cassandra why the people called her the Herald of Andraste.

_"People saw what you did at the Temple," the Seeker explained, "how you stopped the Breach from growing. They also heard about the woman seen behind you in the rift when we first found you. They believe that woman to be Andraste."_

_"You really think your Maker would send someone like me?" Morwen scoffed._

_Cassandra regarded the slight elf carefully before replying, "The Maker does as He wills. It is not for me to decide."_

_"Even if that means a Dalish elf is His chosen?"_

_"Humans are not the only people with an interest in saving the world," was the Seeker's response._

Morwen still could not understand why the Maker would choose her. She didn't even believe that He existed. If the Maker was real, why would He choose someone that didn't even believe in His existence? Why would He choose an elf who worshipped the Creators, and not one of His own? It was all so complicated.

With a weary sigh, the elf closed her eyes. She missed the simplicity of home. She missed roaming free through the forests; she missed the people of Clan Lavellan; she missed the teachings of Keeper Deshanna. Morwen was sure that if her Keeper were here she would be able to impart the confused elf some much needed advice.

Laughter from the tavern floated on the wind and caught the elf's attention. Morwen watched the lights flicker in the windows of the different buildings in Haven and an old pain shot through her—a pain of loneliness and solitude. She was used to being the odd one: the one that didn't belong. Yet, here in this strange place, she felt it even more strongly.

"My Lady Herald," a voice called urgently.

The elf recognized the voice. It belonged to the Commander. She still had trouble being near him when in a group. Her being with him alone was going to be very difficult.

"My Lady?" the voice called again.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Morwen leapt out of the tree.

* * *

Cullen looked around the small stand of trees trying to determine if the Herald had come this way. One of the servants had said that she noticed the elf running in this direction. Cullen was about to give up and head back to Haven when a figure jumped out of a tree to his right.

"My Lady?" Cullen inquired.

"Yes," she responded coolly. "What do you need?"

Cullen noticed the coldness in her voice. Why she was always so aloof towards him was a mystery to the man. He could not understand why she seemed to hold him at a distance, and it bothered him.

"You were going to tell me something?" she asked impatiently.

Maker's breath! he thought, pulling himself from his puzzled thoughts and answering, "Leliana has sent word that she has reached your clan, and that she should be returning within the next seven days."

Cullen barely caught the slight nod of the elf before she replied, "Thank you."

He wondered why she would be out wandering the woods at night, alone. She should not have gone unaccompanied where no one could help her should danger appear, and he decided that he would stay, even if only to be a second pair of watchful eyes rather than a companion, It surprised him, then, when she regarded him once more, her chin tilting upwards proudly.

"Was there something else you needed?" she asked.

Cullen cleared his throat, "You shouldn't be outside at night, especially alone. There could be demons still lurking in this area."

"I am not a child that needs looking after," was her vehement reply. "I am quite capable of taking care of myself."

Cullen was baffled at her heated response. He had only meant to point out the dangers to her, not be drawn into an argument or in any way demean her skill.

"I apologize my lady," he stammered. "I had only meant that no one should be out here alone."

"I will be in shortly," came the curt reply as she scurried back into her tree.

Maker's breath!

Cullen stared at the tree for a moment before turning and walking slowly back to Haven. He had no doubt that the Herald of Andraste was going to be very difficult to work with in the coming months.

* * *

True to her word, Leliana arrived in Haven on the seventh day, and she met the Herald outside by the training grounds. What few recruits had come while the spymaster was away, Cullen had out in the field training with swords and shields. The clanging of metal against metal filled Morwen's ears as she approached the redhead. In Lelana's hands, wrapped securely in a blanket, was a long, narrow package. Excitement thrummed through Morwen's veins. She had anticipated holding this staff for quite some time. It was a part of her home—a part of her.

"Your Keeper was relieved to learn that you had not died in the explosion," Leliana said as she handed the elf the weapon, "She was grieved to learn that you were not returning, yet she seemed almost proud of what you have become. She personally oversaw the crafting of this staff."

Without a word, Morwen unwrapped the staff. A gasp escaped the elf's lips at the sight of it. It was beautifully fashioned. The wood was crafted from the wood of the dahl'amythal, the tree of Mythal. This was a high honor. This staff was not given to the First until they took the place of the Keeper. Morwen slightly feared what the meaning behind this staff held. Pushing those thoughts from her mind, she examined the staff further. Its silver wood was smooth to touch. The head of the staff was breathtaking. It was intricately crafted with branches to resemble a tree. The sign of Mythal.

"Your Keeper also sent this," Leliana handed the elf a folded piece of paper. Upon opening the parchment Morwen saw that it was a letter written in the Keeper's clear flowing hand.

_Da'len,_

Morwen chuckled softly at the endearment. Despite the mage being almost twenty-four, the Keeper of Clan Lavellan insisted on calling her "Little One."

_This shemlin has informed me of the events that happened at the Conclave. I cannot begin to express my deepest regrets in sending you. Had I known what the outcome would have been I would have kept you here safe by my side._

_It would appear that the Creators have another purpose for you. I am told that you hold the key to saving the world. I always knew that you would do great things. I knew it the moment we found you, a frightened child with a power I have never seen in any other mage._

_I know that you are scared. Do not be. You are more capable than you realize. You have the ability to lead this group of shemlin. You are strong, caring, and brave. All the things that make a great Keeper._

_The staff I send you is the one that you would have received once I had passed from this world. I give it to you now. May it remind you of your duty now to this Inquisition. You are their Keeper now. It is your job to protect them, learn all you can from them, and love them._

_Da'len, I know that this will be difficult for you to accept, but you must. The fate of the clan and the world depends upon it. Do not let your demons of the past cloud your judgement. They will surely destroy you swifter then any sword._

_Be safe, my child. Know that you will always have a home here._

_Dareth shiral_

_Keeper Deshanna Istimaethorial Lavellan_

Morwen stared at the paper mutely, her emotions raging within her. Deshanna had appointed her the Keeper of the Inquisition! She could not believe it. Why would the Keeper do that? What could she possibly do? She just wanted to return to her clan!

Regarding her the staff and the letter in her hand, Morwen then turned her eyes to the spymaster before her. Clearly the other woman was studying her, watching to see what her response would be. Not wanting Leliana to see her conflicting emotions, the mage began to inspect her staff.

Twirling it, she tested the balance and weight. It was perfect! She gave a half smile as she continued to spin it. She could hardly wait to try some spells. Glancing around, she noticed a recruit struggling to hold his shield correctly. A mischievous smile crossed her face as an idea came to her mind.

"You there," Cullen roared at a recruit. "How many times do I have to tell you to use your shield to block?"

He had been out all morning with the recruits trying to teach them how to properly use their weapons. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck trying to ease the tension growing. It had been a long day. Most of the men could hardly wield a sword without almost hacking off one of their body parts. He had worked with them, helping them to hold their swords correctly and to stand properly. After that, he had them practice with the shield, then with the combination of both weapon and shield together Some of the men were having trouble remembering that they were able to use both of the materials in their hands, and not just one or the other.

The Commander had noticed the slight elf and the spymaster at the other end of the training field, but paid them no mind. He was too busy making sure none of his new recruits killed themselves.

"Hold the shield like this," he said has he ripped the shield from the recruit at whom he'd been yelling. "You block by bringing the shield forward. You want to protect your head."

Just as Cullen brought the shield up to his head a blast of ice slammed into the round shield. The force nearly knocked the unexpecting Commander off his feet.

Andraste's flaming sword! he cursed.

Before he could conjure another thought, two more spells slammed into the shield.

Maker, what is going on?

"Who did that?" he yelled, scanning the training yard for the culprit. Across the field, Morwen was slowly lowering her staff. She had a grin of smug satisfaction on her face.

She looked at Leliana before saying, "Yes, I think it works."

The elf turned on her heel and slowly sauntered back to her small cabin, leaving the spymaster and commander to watch her retreat stunned


	5. Chapter 5

Hello Readers! First I would like to apologize for taking such a long time to post this chapter. Unfortunately life got in the way as it so often does.

This chapter is probably one of my favorites. It was such a joy to write, and every time that I read it I just grin. Our little Herald is going to be doing some growing in the next few chapters. I hope you enjoy.

Thanks to all of you who have followed/favorited my story. Your support means the world to me!

BECOMING THE HERALD

"She did what?" Varric exclaimed in disbelief.

The recruit with whom he was speaking nodded his head emphatically, "It's true! She blasted ice spells at the Commander the moment he pulled the shield into position. The Commander didn't know what hit him."

"That's great," the dwarf laughed. "Curly, needs to be knocked off balance occasionally. It'll keep him on his toes."

The recruit conversing with Varric was the very same one Cullen had been scolding for his shield earlier—and quite the story he had to tell. Varric had been looking for ideas for the next chapter in his book 'Swords and Shields' when he encountered the lad. After hearing about the little mage's newest outburst, the dwarf decided he was going to have to put the tale somewhere in his story.

Varric hadn't seen much of the Herald of Andraste since she stabilized the Breach by closing the underlying rift. From what he was hearing, she was proving to be a less than willing participant in the Inquisition's endeavors. Not that the dwarf could blame her. She had, after all, been forced into a world that she did not understand. A title that she did not want had been thrust upon her, no one asking if she wanted it. This could not be easy for the elf.

The storyteller's musings where interrupted when the doors to the Chantry flung open and a very angry elf stormed out shouting, "NO!" at the top of her lungs. Cassandra was hot on her heels looking equally infuriated.

"You have to," the Seeker said with fierce determination. "You agreed to help."

"I agreed to close the Breach," spat Morwen, "not to be your puppet to dangle in front of people to get them to join your cult!"

"The Inquisition is not a cult," Cassandra defended vehemently.

The two women stood mere feet apart eyes sparking with stubbornness and anger. Neither one was aware of the crowd that was beginning to gather. They were too absorbed in their argument.

"Really?" Scoffed the mage, "Then why does your own Chantry denounce it, and label all of us heretics? Sounds an awful lot like a cult to me!"

Someone cleared his throat, and the two fighters turned their gaze to the dwarf sitting nearby, "I don't mean to pry, but I think this discussion would be better done in private."

Cassandra glanced at the crowd that had grown since she and the Herald had first stormed out of the Chantry. Letting out a disgusted noise, she scowled at the Herald, "You have until tomorrow morning to change your mind."

She turned and stormed back into the Chantry while Morwen took off towards the outskirts of town. Varric watched the small elf's retreat. He hesitated for a brief moment before following the fleeing figure.

Varric found Morwen in a grove of trees just outside of Haven. She was casting spell after spell at a tree stump and muttering angrily to herself. The stump was ablaze with fire, crackling and popping as each new fire spell engulfed it.

"Hey Stormy, I think the stump is dead," Varric called to Morwen.

She spun, facing the dwarf. Strands of loose hair from her braid fell across her face as angry, silver eyes met his calm, light blue ones.

"They want me to scout the Hinterlands," she ranted. "They want me to go out there and gather support for the Inquisition as the Herald of Andraste. I don't even believe in their god. How am I supposed to portray myself as an icon of a religion that I don't even believe in and then gather support for it?"

Varric watched the elfin lass silently as she continued, "And let's not forget that they want me to recruit either the Templars or the mages to help seal the Breach! Leliana and Cassandra seem to agree that the mages are our best option—at least they harbor some level of reason. Mister Ex-Templar; however, thinks that we should recruit the Templars. As if I would ever consider asking the Templars for assistance!"

Finished with her tirade, the elf slumped against a nearby tree, and glared at the town, "My own Keeper has practically exiled me from my Clan," Morwen's voice was thick with emotion. A tear slowly escaped down her cheek as she continued, "She thinks that I can do some good here. She has given me the task of being the Inquisition's Keeper. I feel so…lost."

For a few minutes neither one spoke. Each was lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Varric cleared his throat, "You know, I don't think anyone is asking you to actually believe in the Maker."

Confused eyes sought his, "What do you mean?"

"Well, the way I see it, the people are the ones who gave you the title Herald of Andraste. They are the ones who believe in the Maker, and if they choose to call you that why should you care?"

Morwen watched Varric closely, taking in every word he said.

"The people need something to believe. If that means thinking that you are Andraste's herald let them think that. It gives them hope."

"But I don't believe in the Maker," protested the elf.

"No one said that you had to believe, just let others believe," Varric glanced at Morwen thoughtfully. "Let others see the Herald of Andraste bringing hope to those who have none. Go to the Hinterlands and help those who are suffering. If they choose to call you the Herald let them. Simple as that. As for your Keeper, she must see something special in you. Do not doubt her faith in you."

Morwen regarded the dwarf, wondering at his words. She knew that he and Cassandra did not get along, and it surprised her that he was still here.

"Why did you stay?" Morwen asked. "Cassandra said that you were free to go."

A half smile crept across the rogue's features, "I like to think I'm as selfish and irresponsible as the next guy, but this... Thousands of people died on that mountain. I was almost one of them. And now, there's a hole in the sky. Even I can't walk away and leave that to sort itself out."

The elf stared thoughtfully at the glowing tear in the sky. If Varric, a dwarf, who had no reason to stay, was willing to help, how much more should she be willing? After all, she was the one with the mark on her hand that could close rifts, and possibly seal the Breach. She didn't want to be involved, but sometimes the things one wants aren't always the things one needs. Maybe Keeper Deshanna was right. Maybe...just maybe, she was meant for something great.

Sighing, Morwen looked at Varric. She knew that this was where she needed to be. Who knew—it could even possibly be fun.

"Will you come with me," asked the elf, "to the Hinterlands?"

Varric grinned, "Stormy, I would be honored to join you."

The counsel room was quiet the next morning as three advisors and a warrior waited for the appearance of the Herald. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck as he studied the map of Orlais and Ferelden on the war table. Josephine busied herself with some letters that she was writing to the nobles in Ferelden in hopes to gain support. Leliana stood in the shadows, her black hood casting shadows across her pale cheeks. Cassandra paced back and forth, too agitated to sit or stand still.

"She should be here," the Seeker muttered. "Why is she not here yet?"

"Cassandra will you stop that pacing?" the spymaster snapped. "It's getting on my nerves."

The agitated woman merely growled in disgust as she glared at Leliana, and continued her restless pacing.

"Why did the Maker have to send someone like her?" Cassandra slammed her fist on the table, "She's so strong willed!"

Cullen chuckled softly, "She certainly is a spitfire."

The door to the room swung open, cutting off any reply that Cassandra might have had and in walked the proud elf. She moved with her shoulders squared and her head held high. Dressed in a white shirt with a black vest over it, she wore black pants and boots with a black arcanist's war robe completing her dark attire. Behind her, her staff was strapped securely in its holster on her back. Behind her walked Varric with Bianca.

Morwen nodded to each of the advisors before facing Cassandra, "I am ready to expand the Inquisition's reach in the Hinterlands. As for my outburst the other day, I apologize if it appeared unseemly to you. Rest assured that I am willing to do whatever it takes to close the Breach and to help the Inquisition's influence grow. I would like to request that we leave immediately to ensure that we reach the Hinterlands in a timely fashion."

Cassandra was speechless for a moment, "I...we accept your help, Herald. I have the necessary preparations arranged so that we may leave at once. If you do not mind, I have asked Solas to join us on this mission. We may still run into some rifts, and I believe that his expertise will be valuable."

Morwen motioned to Varric standing beside her, "Varric has also agreed to join me on this mission."

The Seeker opened her mouth to object, but a glare from Leliana silenced any protests. "Very well, the dwarf may come."

Looking pleased with herself, the mage glanced at her companions, "Let us begin."

It was late morning when the small party of four mounted their horses and cantered out of Haven towards the Hinterlands. Many had gathered at the wooden gates to wish the Herald and her party blessings on their journey. Morwen had been slightly overwhelmed by the support of these people she barely knew. A small pang of regret shot through her when she realized she knew but a small handful of the citizens gathered there. The elf determined that when she returned she would do a better job of learning the names of those who so willingly trusted her.

A lone figure stood on the makeshift wall surrounding Haven, watching the foursome slowly disappear into the hills. Red and black pauldrons were tousled in the wind as honey brown eyes intently watched the dark-haired elf as she faded from his view.

Cullen slowly rubbed the back of his neck. A bad habit that he had formed over the years revealing nervousness or confusion. He sighed softly, wondering if this was a good idea. The elf had barely accepted her role as Andraste's Herald, and now they were sending her out on the field to recruit others to their cause. He prayed to the Maker that they weren't making a mistake sending her so soon.

As the Commander began to descend the wooden stairs along the wall, his thoughts remained on the mage. He could not explain why he was drawn to her—almost like a moth to the flame. There was something about the Herald that intrigued Cullen. She was very transparent—an open book—yet there was an air of mystery about her.

Her adamant responses to being Herald revealed that she wasn't well practiced at keeping her emotions in check. Cullen had even noticed that when she was around him the small lass struggled with a strange, unsettled emotion that he could not quite identify.

In truth, it bothered the man that the elf avoided him at all costs, and when she was forced to speak to him or acknowledge him it was usually with contempt. Cullen frowned, his handsome features pulled into a grimace. If only there were a way to show the lass that he meant her no harm, and only wanted to be her friend.

Sighing wearily, Cullen pushed the door to his small cabin open. He stepped into the dim light and surveyed his sparse quarters. His desk sat by the only window in the cabin. A bed (which he rarely used) was in the opposite corner, a small wooden chest at its foot was the only other furniture in the dreary room.

Cullen's Templar training had taught him to survive with just the basics. Though no longer with the Templars, their lessons still held a strong influence over the Commander of the Inquisition.

Pulling a report from the stack of papers on his desk, Cullen sat and began to review it. His mind drifted one more time to the silver-eyed mage. He wondered if she would ever trust him. Shaking himself, he returned to the report in his hand. There would be time to solve the mystery of the elf, later.


	6. Chapter 6

I am so sorry for the legnth of time it has taken me to bring you this chapter. It has been a rough couple of weeks for myself and my family. I thank you for your patience.

THE CROSSROADS

The small party made their way along the road leading to the Crossroads. They had reached the Inquisition camp late yesterday afternoon and had rested there for the night, making their way, now, to speak with Mother Giselle, a chantry cleric, who had requested to speak with the Herald.

Morwen was still having trouble adjusting to her new title and her new role. She didn't know what people expected of her. Having never believed in the Maker or Andraste, she wasn't sure how the people expected 'The Herald of Andraste' to act. It didn't help when others noted that she was a Dalish elf, as had the one Inquisition scout...Harding was it? The talkative scout had wondered at the Maker choosing an elf for his purpose; however, it didn't seem to bother the dwarf much.

The elf was pulled from her thoughts when the group rounded a bend in the road, and were greeted by the sad sight of a refugee camp. The camp was filled with makeshift tents scattered across the clearing. A hastily constructed wooden structure stood in the midst of it with a great deal of activity going on at the wooden building. Morwen signaled for the group to continue towards the building.

Walking through the camp, Morwen noticed how the people stopped and stared. There was a wearied look in the eyes of the refugees that reflectedworn down and without hope. Many had lost their homes and some had even lost loved ones to the Templar-Mage war. Seeing the exhausted souls like this pulled at the Herald's heart.

The solemn members approached the structure. A woman in crimson and white chantry robes was kneeling beside a pallet with a wounded soldier on it. She spoke in soothing tones before moving away, allowing a mage to heal the wounded man.

Morwen approached the chantry cleric, "Mother Giselle?"

"I am," the woman replied. "You must be the one that they are calling The Herald of Andraste."

"I'm told you asked for me."

Mother Giselle moved away from the makeshift building before answering, "I know of the Chantry's denouncement, and I'm familiar with those behind it. Some are grandstanding, hoping to become the next Divine."

They stopped just on the outskirts of the camp. Morwen listened as the chantry mother continued, "Some are simply afraid. They have heard only frightful tales of you. Go to them. Convince them that you are no demon to be feared. Give them something else to believe."

The elf wondered if that would even work. She was a Dalish elf. She highly doubted that any Chantry cleric would listen to her.

"Will they even listen?" She asked, "I am, after all, an elf."

For a moment, Mother Giselle regarded the slight elf, thoughtfully, "Let me put it to you this way. You do not need to convince all of them. You just need to make some of them doubt. Their power is their unified voice. Take that from them, and you receive the time you need."

Morwen highly doubted that it would work, but Mother Giselle was a Chantry cleric and she was willing to help the Inquisition. It was possible that there were others who felt as this woman did, yet were just too frightened to speak. Maybe they needed a reason to speak.

"It is good of you to help," the mage replied gratefully.

"I do not know if you have been touched by Fate, or sent to help us by the Maker," Mother Giselle said softly, "but I hope. Hope is what we need now. The people will listen to your rallying call like no other."

Morwen nodded before turning to look at the camp, "Do the people have anywhere to go?"

"No," the cleric sighed sadly. "They have all lost their homes to either Templars accusing them of being mage sympathizers, or mages who felt that the people would turn them over to the Templars."

With a heavy heart the Herald regarded the poor people. She knew that she was supposed to spread the influence of the Inquisition. She wondered if that meant it gave her the power to bring refugees to Haven.

Turning, she glanced at Cassandra, "I want the Inquisition troops to transport these people to the safety of Haven. From there they can decide if they want to rebuild their homes here, or stay with the Inquisition."

Cassandra was shocked. She did not think that the Herald, a Dalish elf, and the antagonistic Morwen especially, would even bother to care about what happened to the people. When she could speak again, she nodded"I will inform Corporal Vale immediately."

As the Seeker strode to talk with the Corporal, Morwen and the rest of her group moved amongst the refugees looking for ways to help them. There was so much to do. A woman was sick and needed medicine only her missing son could make; there were not enough blankets for the refugees; another woman was worried about her missing lover; and the list of needs just kept growing. The slightly overwhelmed elf was unsure where to start. That's when she heard two hunters talking.

"That's the last of the bread," the one with a dark beard said.

"It's going to be a long hungry night," the blond haired one replied.

She approached the two men, "Excuse me, I couldn't help but overhear what you just said."

Both hunters straightened their shoulders and bowed to the elf. "M'lady, it is an honor to meet the Herald of Andraste," the bearded man was the first to speak.

Morwen nodded to the men, "What are your names?"

"My name is William, M'lady," said the dark haired man.

"Mine is Gavin," replied the blond.

"I heard you mention the last of the bread," the elf motioned towards the people in the camp. "These people have no food?"

"That is correct," William answered. "There are some rams out in the hills not far from here. They make for good eating and cook well."

The mage looked at the hunters confused, "If you are hunters then why haven't you hunted these rams?"

"It's too dangerous," Gavin defended gloomily. He cast a weary eye about the camp. "One is more likely to find Templars or mages than mutton these days.

Morwen studied the two men. Their bows were crudely made, probably in haste. No doubt their original weapons were destroyed when they fled their homes. These were more than likely sufficient when hunting small animals, and on occasion a ram or two; however, they would be no match against a Templar's armor or a mage's spell.

She gazed at William, "How many rams would be needed to feed the refugees?"

William was thoughtful for a moment, calculating how many mouths would need to be fed. "I would say that ten rams will be enough with some left over," he mused.

"Then, my companions and I will gather these rams for the refugees," the Herald stated.

Both men stared at the elfin mage in shock. They could not believe that the Herald of Andraste would care about some ragtag group of farmers. They were filled with pride to know that the Maker had chosen someone who looked out for the less fortunate.

As the small party moved away from the hunters, Varric glanced at Morwen. "Stormy, are you sure about this? I mean, I'm all for helping and all that, but it's not like we have a trained hunter in our group."

The Herald shrugged, "How hard can it be, Varric? It's just a couple of dumb rams. We'll be done by sundown. I am sure of it."

Sundown, indeed.

Hunting rams proved harder than the Herald had originally thought. The small group of four started out together; however, after the first day of the group crashing about the woods they agreed it would be better to split into pairs and hunt that way.

Morwen found herself paired with Varric, much to her delight. Cassandra and the elf were still not getting along very well since their argument in Haven. Morwen would not have minded being paired with Solas. She enjoyed the company of another mage, but the rogue and Seeker were sure to kill each other if left to themselves, so the elfin mage found herself with the storyteller.

Varric, though not a hunter, understood the need for stealth, and tried to teach the mage some basic stealth techniques. It was proving to be rather interesting. Every time Morwen felt that she had mastered the technique, she would snap a twig or crunch some dead leaves and watch in disgust as her quarry leapt away, far beyond their reach.

Thus far, the mage and rogue had succeeded in killing two rams and closing a small rift. Morwen hoped that Solas and Cassandra were faring better than she and Varric were. They had agreed to meet back at their camp at nightfall. The sun had just reached its zenith in the sky, and was beginning its descent towards the West.

Little woodland critters scurried about the trees and underbrush of the woods, ignoring the hunters. Other than the birds and the smaller animals, the duo did not see a single sign of the rams.

Furrowing her brows in frustration, the mage sighed wearily.

"Not having fun, Stormy?" Varric noted, more a statement than anything.

Morwen scoffed, "Hardly, I am beginning to have new respect for our hunters back home. How they manage to do this every day, I will never understand."

The dwarf chuckled softly, "I tried to warn you it wasn't going to be easy."

"Oh, shut up," the elf punched her companion playfully.

"Hey, be careful," Varric complained as he rubbed his offended shoulder. "I'm very delicate."

Morwen threw back her head and laughed. It was the first time Varric had seen the elf truly laugh. She had chuckled a few times and even a slight smile would cross her lips, but never a real, honest to goodness laugh. The dwarf noticed how it lit her face. For a brief moment the cares of the world were gone and replaced by joy. Varric grinned to himself, determining that he was going to make the elf laugh more often. That's when Varric got an idea. "Have I ever told you about the time Isabela got Sebastian drunk and nearly had her way with the Chantry boy?"

The mage shook her head.

"It all started as any other night at the Hanged Man. There was drinking, singing, and of course Wicked Grace..." Varric went on to tell about the crazy antics of the Champion of Kirkwall's companions. Soon he had the Herald laughing at how Isabela masterfully tricked Sebastian into playing a game of Wicked Grace. Each round that she won he would drink a tankard of ale, while each round he won she would do the same. "...then just as Rivaini had Choir-boy all tied up and ready to drag back to her ship Hawke burst through the doors, marched straight to the pirate, and just glared at her. I'm telling ya, Hawke had a way of just looking at people in a way that could make them shit their pants. She just glowered. Didn't have to say a word. Rivaini reluctantly cut the knot tied around Choir-boy's hands, and slowly backed away muttering something about Hawke being a spoilsport! It was hilarious."

Morwen giggled, "I can't believe Isabela would do that!"

"Trust me, if you knew Rivaini you wouldn't be surprised at her actions. She was always trying to get Choir-boy into bed. It was fun to watch him turn all shades of red. She really knew how to make him blush," reminisced the storyteller. He chuckled softly, "After that night, Sebastian refused to set foot into the Hanged Man for weeks, and almost spent the same amount of time refusing to speak to Isabela. That was a crazy bunch Hawke had."

"It would seem you miss them," observed the mage.

A sad smile touched Varric's lips, "They were the best bunch of friends a dwarf could have. Granted, they all had issues, but we made them work. I guess you can say we all became family for each other."

Morwen listened silently to Varric speak of his friends. She could tell that they meant a lot to the dwarf. The old, familiar ache stirred again in the elf's lonely heart. It had been so long since she had had anyone in her life that she could call family. Hers had died long ago, and despite being with Clan Lavellan she never truly felt as if she belonged. True, she had Keeper Deshanna and Felon, but other than those two she really did not have anyone she could call friend much less family.

The young elf wondered if she would ever find a place she could call her home with people that she could call her family. She so longed for love and acceptance. However, it felt at every turn she was denied those things. Would she ever find the things that she most desired?

The Herald shook herself from her dark thoughts, and glanced to the right. She spotted a ram not far away munching on some dead leaves. Morwen motioned to Varric, pointing towards their quarry. Deftly he lifted Bianca and fired. The shot was true. The ram jerked once before falling dead. The two would-be hunters approached their kill.

Three down, thought the mage wearily. Her thoughts from earlier pushed to the back of her mind to sit and wait until she dared to bring them forth again. Only seven more to go.


	7. Chapter 7

Hello Readers! I hope that you are having a great week. Things are starting to pick up over here with the wedding fast approaching! Only nine more days! I can hardly believe it. Anyway, I hope that you enjoy this fun chapter.

Extra points to those who can spot my book reference and movie referance. Good luck!

Thank you for all of your support.

LETTERS

Light filtered across the rooftops as the sun's warm rays chased away the mountain's cold night air. Birds begin their singing as the animals of the forest shook off sleep's grasp. A singular ray of light inched its way slowly across a paper strewn desk. A quill pen paused as its user wearily observed the ray's progression, alerting him to the dawning of a new day.

Leaning back in his chair, Cullen rolled his shoulders, easing the tension of his sore muscles as he rubbed a calloused hand down his exhausted face. The Commander of the Inquisition had barely slept the previous night, and what little sleep he had gotten was plagued by nightmares, waking him abruptly and bathing him in a cold sweat, both hands clutching the sheets as shallow gasps left his mouth.

Cullen stood and began to dress for the day. He pushed the memories of the dream to the back of his mind, knowing that he did not have time to dwell on the horrors that plagued his consciousness. Instead, he began to think about his duties for the day, one of the first being a meeting with Leliana and Josephine after breakfast to discuss what the Inquisition was going to do once the Herald returned from the Hinterlands.

He wondered how she was faring. They had yet to receive any news from the elf or any of her companions. It concerned Cullen that they had gone a little over a week without hearing a word from any of them. The only thing that had kept the advisors from fearing the worst was when some refugees from the Hinterlands arrived bearing news that the elf and her companions had made it to the Crossroads.

Pulling a comb from the chest at the foot of his bed, Cullen groomed his wild curls into submission. He ran a hand across his stubbled chin, briefly considering shaving, but opting against it to avoid being late for the meeting. Securing the last strap of his armor, Cullen squared his shoulders as he pulled the door to his quarters open, ready to face the day.

The stroll to the Chantry was pleasant. The chill of the night before was slowly disappearing as the sun's warm rays fought to gain the upper hand. Cullen breathed in the crisp mountain air, allowing its cooling affect to chase away the remnants of his nightmare. Shouts of, "Good morning" were heard as the town of Haven began to stir.

Entering the back room of the Chantry, Cullen was greeted by Leliana and Josephine. He nodded to each of them as he took his usual position at the war table. They had turned the small chamber into a war room, of sorts. A large table with a map with the countries of Orlais and Ferelden lay sprawled across it. On it were markers representing the different agents of the Inquisition. One in particular grabbed the attention of the advisors. It stood next to the black letters marking the Hinterlands, and it represented the Herald of Andraste and her companions. It was because of her that they were meeting this morning.

"We received news from the Herald early this morning," Leliana mentioned, officially beginning the war council. Her pale lips smirked as she continued, "It would appear that our Herald has a very...unique style of writing."

"How so?" Cullen asked.

"Read it for yourself," the spymaster replied as she handed a parchment to Cullen.

_**Leliana, Josephine, Commander, or Whomever I am supposed to address this to,**_

The letter began.

**_Cassandra has insisted that I write you regular reports of our time here in the Hinterlands._**

**_Why? I cannot understand. It is a waste of time when I will be speaking with you about the events that transpire here upon my return to Haven._**

**_However, to get Cassandra off my back, and to stop her constant nagging, I am writing this "report."_**

**_We reached the Hinterlands all in one piece, spoke with Scout Harding, and then set out for the Crossroads (which we reached without incident). Once we arrived at the Crossroads, we spoke with Mother Giselle. She has agreed to help us and to supply names of those in the Chantry who might be willing to help us. She should be arriving in Haven around the same time as this ridiculous note._**

**_After speaking with Mother Giselle, we overheard some hunters talking about how they were running out of food. We agreed to help them and to hunt some rams. I am never hunting rams again! They were extremely difficult to find. It took us three days to hunt ten rams. Three days! There should be some sort of reward for hunters. How they manage to do this every day for the rest of their lives is beyond me._**

**_One other reason why it took us three days to catch the rams was because on the second day we were attacked by bears. Well, I should say Varric and I were attacked by bears. I have no idea where they came from. One minute we are strolling along minding our own business, then BAM! Bears everywhere! Thankfully there was a tree nearby that Varric and I climbed to escape the reach of the raging carnivores._**

**_I am not sure how long we had been waiting in that tree when Solas and Cassandra stumbled upon us. Thankfully, we were able to defeat the annoying animals and return safely to the ground._**

**_Except for Varric. He wants me to put down that he suffered a scratch on his arm while climbing the tree. He also wants to know if there is some sort of worker's compensation that we give to our injured agents? Actually, I'd like to know, too. After all, I think we've earned it, whatever it is._**

**_I do not believe that there is anything more to report. We will be searching for Master Dennet in the coming days in hopes to secure more horses, but we do not know how long that will take._**

**_Herald of Andraste_**

_**Cassandra is insisting (again) that I sign all reports as the Herald. This is the dumbest thing in all of Thedas. It's not as if I asked for the fucking title.**_

Raising an eyebrow at Leliana, Cullen passed the paper to Josephine so that she could read it. "She certainly doesn't keep her thoughts to herself, does she?" He noted, casting an amused glance at the spymaster.

"That she does not,' Leliana confirmed. "She is very straightforward and has no qualms about telling you what she thinks."

"It is a good thing that she is not a diplomat," Josephine cringed. "We would be at war with half a dozen countries by now if she were on the loose."

The other advisors nodded their heads in agreement. It was clear to the three Inquisition advisors that the small elf was very opinionated and had no reservations with voicing that opinion. The Herald was someone who did not wish to be there, and was making it well known that whatever she did, she did begrudgingly.

They discussed a few more issues before dismissing for the day, each returning to their respective duties.

* * *

True to the Herald's guess, Mother Giselle and a small handful of refugees arrived later that evening. She promptly supplied Josephine with the names of those who might be willing to help the Inquisition, and in turn, the Ambassador swiftly composed letters asking to meet with them.

Over the course of the next few days, even more people slowly began to trickle in from the Hinterlands. Despite the elf's lack of tact in her letters, it appeared that she had a way of winning the people over. Those that arrived sung her praises as well as the praises of both the Maker and Andraste.

It was told to the advisors how the Herald of Andraste battled demons, closed rifts, healed the sick and injured, brought supplies and food to them, and even fought a small band of rebel mages that had tried to attack the refugees. The three would stare at each other in wonder at what they were hearing, bemused and awed at the apparent transformation that appeared to be occurring in the elf.

Ten days after the first letter, a second dispatch arrived.

Cullen was in the training grounds overseeing some of his more advanced soldiers when Leliana approached him. An amused gleam was in her usually guarded eyes as she stepped next to the Commander. Without saying a word she handed him a folded paper and glided away.

Confused Cullen glanced at the folded parchment before slowly unfolding it. A slow smile began to form on his lips, pulling at his scar on his upper lip. Shoulders shook in silent laughter, and he had to take a deep breath to compose himself.

_**Leliana, Josephine, Commander, and whoever else reads these dumb things,**_

_**It would appear that it is time to write a report...again. I swear whoever decided that these things were important needs to be hanged, or have a curse put on them, or something. They are the most ridiculous, annoying things ever!**_

_**Anyway, everything is fine. We found Master Dennet, and after doing some of his errands he has agreed to help us. We will be traveling back with him within the next few days.**_

_**Which reminds me. Why the fuck does everyone think that we are here to do all of their chores for them? I mean everywhere we go people are constantly asking us to fix a problem that they have or find something that they lost. Does suddenly being attacked qualify one losing their mind? It's as if they lose all ability to function. It begs one to wonder how they survived the world thus far.**_

_**Also, there was this crazy man that I met. He kept insisting that one of his fellow village women was a mage and a witch. He wanted us to burn her. When asked what proof he had for his accusations, his reply was "She turned me into a newt." Cassandra swiftly pointed out that the man was not a newt, to which he answered, "I got better." Seriously? Where do these people come from? There should be a law banning people such as these from reproducing. It would save the world a whole lot of trouble.**_

_**Nothing more to report. We should be back in Haven by next week, if everything goes well, and no one decides die or something.**_

_**Your Fucking Herald of Andraste**_

_**Varric owes me two silvers now. He bet that I wouldn't sign the letter using a cuss word.**_

Cullen folded the letter and tucked it into the folds of his cloak. Chuckling softly to himself, he returned his attention to his men. The Herald certainly had interesting ideas.

* * *

The appointed time for the Herald's return had come and gone. It was almost two days past the day she and her companions were supposed to be back in Haven. Cullen could not discern why, but the delay made him extremely nervous. After all, it was not uncommon for large groups to take longer to arrive at their destinations. She could have simply guessed wrong about the time of arrival. However, any reassuring reason Cullen conjured did nothing to dissipate his growing unease at the Herald's absence.

Cullen was signing paperwork when a knock sounded on his door. Upon opening it, he found a very concerned spymaster on his steps. Silently, Leliana handed him another folded parchment. Without a word he took it and read the two short lines.

_**Ran into some Templars, but all is fine now. We should be in Haven tonight.**_

_**Don't listen to anything Cassandra says. It was not as bad as she will make it sound.**_

_**Morwen**_

"What do you think?" Leliana asked. Her sharp eyes watching him closely.

Cullen sighed as he handed it back to Leliana, "It sounds like she is hiding something."

The redhead slowly nodded her head in agreement, "I am considering sending some of my scouts to see if they can locate her position."

"That is a good idea."

* * *

Before any of Leliana's scouts could return with news of the Herald, a procession of horses and wagons was spotted on the horizon. Soon the people were gathered at the gates, ready to greet their Herald.

As the wagons slowly lumbered into Haven, the people noticed that there was no sign of the elf or her companions. Quiet murmurings among the villagers soon began to grow at the distinct absence.

Cullen scanned the wagons, wondering if perhaps she was in one of them. His suspicions were confirmed when shouting erupted from the last wagon in the line.

"I said no!" A voice yelled.

Cullen recognized that voice. Its strong, determined, and stubborn sound belonged to the silver-eyed elf who was now pulling herself out of the still moving wagon. Without hesitation, she flung herself to the ground, rolling as she made contact. Swiftly, the lass stood and stomped out of Haven. Cullen noted the slight limp that she was trying, unsuccessfully, to hide.

Querying eyes turned to the short haired woman exiting the very same wagon. An exasperated look was on her face as she glared at the retreating form of the elf.

"What was that all about?" Cullen asked as the rest of the companions filed out of the back.

"She froze," Cassandra practically shouted, exasperation filling her every word, "We were fighting Templars and she FROZE!"

"What do you mean 'she froze'?"

"What else do you think I mean? She froze. One moment she was behind me casting spells, and the next a Templar charged her and she just…froze!" The frustrated Seeker began to pace as her rant continued. "I don't understand. We fought demons and mages without one problem; yet, when faced with Templars it's as if she doesn't know how to fight."

Turning her determined gaze on the Commander, Cassandra pointed at him, "You have to train her how to fight. She must be ready. We cannot have a repeat of this past incident."

Cullen opened his mouth to protest, but the look in the Seeker's eyes warned him that this was an argument that he was not going to win.

"I would suggest starting at the earliest possible time," she said before stalking away.

Stunned, Cullen turned to gaze in the direction he had seen the Herald run.

"If you are thinking of going after her, I would wait," a gruff voice sounded next to him.

Cullen looked down to find Varric, arms crossed, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. The dwarf was also looking towards where the elfin mage had retreated.

"What happened?"

"You know Curly I'm not even sure I know," Varric replied frankly. "It's like Seeker said. One moment Stormy was casting spells, and the next she was rooted to one spot. I thought for sure one of the Templars was draining her mana until she cast a hasty barrier to try and protect herself. By that time, she was almost too late. The barrier slowed the Templar down, but it did not stop him from reaching her. Bianca shot a bolt into the bastard's back before he could attack Stormy, but the lumbering idiot collapsed on her, which is why she is limping. Her ankle was sprained during the fall.

Varric shook his head thoughtfully, gazing into the distance, his mind, no doubt, on the events that had transpired. "It was as if she was afraid of them. I'm sure she is embarrassed about the whole thing. That's why she didn't want Cassandra to say anything and why she ran away."

Cullen listened intently as Varric explained what had happened to them. It was puzzling. Why would she freeze with Templars, but not mages? What could have happened to her to make her so afraid? Cullen didn't have any of the answers, but he hoped that by tomorrow he would.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Wow! I apologize for taking so long in getting you this next chapter. Life as a married woman is**_

_** definitely an adventure, but I am having a blast! This next chapter is a slightly dark, and we get to see into Morwen's past a little. I hope you enjoy . As always, any helpful comments or suggestions are welcome. Thank you for your patience. **_

**TRUST**

They were coming for her. She had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. She couldn't move. She stood frozen to one place watching in mute horror as two men clad in heavy chain mail marched resolutely towards her. She should run; she should flee; yet her feet remained planted to the ground. A small mew of fear escaped her lips as the men bore down upon her.

She cast her eyes about looking for help, but there would be no help. The bodies of her family lay mutilated and covered in blood on the forest floor. These men had done this. These monsters had caused this bloodshed. They were responsible for the death of her family. A rage began to build within her, boiling deep in her heart. This new emotion flooded the child elf. For the first time, bitterness and hatred gripped her tiny being.

As the men reached out to grab her, the rage that had been building erupted. With a scream, she jerked away from them and released an inferno of fire. The unsuspecting guards pulled back, attempting to avoid the flames. Empowered, she took a step towards them. No longer would they murder families and tear them apart. No longer would they torture those too helpless to defend themselves. These men would pay.

A trickle of blood ran down the cheek of the man to her left. The cut was the sign of her mother's valiant struggle to protect her. The small, elfin mage focused her thoughts on that cut. She focused on how these men had made her suffer; she wanted them to suffer, as well. She wanted them to feel the pain and anguish that was coursing through her.

Her blood boiled with anger, hatred, and grief, and now their blood would boil as well.

She started with the blood spilling out of the man's cut. She focused on how she wanted it to burn, she imagined it on fire. She imagined the flames spreading through his entire body, of it spreading to his partner.

The screams of the dying men joined her own cries of anguish, as the child pushed all of her energy into destroying those that had taken her family from her.

Their cries and screams echoed through the forest...

Morwen woke with a start. She jerked straight up in bed, her chest heaving. Taking a shaky breath, she ran fingers through her matted hair, reminding herself that it was just a dream.

Pale moonlight filtered across wooden floorboards, signifying that dawn was still an hour or two away. Sighing, the elf swung her legs over the side of the bed and jumped off. Most shemlin where taller than she, so the beds that they had were just a tad too high for the short elfin lass. This caused her to have to climb into bed and jump out of it. A rather annoying feature to the elf, but one that she kept to herself.

Slowly, Morwen padded over to the window. Silently, she watched wisps of clouds float across the night sky. Stars blinked in and out as the clouds passed over them; even the light from the moon was dimmed by these thin wisps.

She should have known that the nightmare would come. She should have known that the fight with the Templars would awaken the demons she had long thought conquered. Her past would always haunt her. She knew that; but it was nice to think that, for a brief time, she had escaped their clutches.

She sighed quietly. The past few weeks had been difficult, but she had felt that she had handled them quite nicely. That is, until the Templars showed -they were always good at ruining things. The slight elf was sure that their Order would be her undoing. Bitterly, she remembered the shock plastered on her companions' faces after the attack..

_What were you thinking? Why didn't you move?_

Morwen had briefly considered explaining why she had been affected in such a way..._briefly_. She knew that if she did they would not truly understand, or worse - they would pity her. She did not need their pity.

Pushing an unruly strand of hair behind a pointed ear, the lass decided that there was no point in returning to bed. Dreams where dangerous things for mages, and nightmares where even worse. Even elven mages were wary about dreaming in the Beyond. Demons were clever creatures, and in a moment of weakness or of letting one's guard down they could trick one into possession. Dreams and nightmares were the easiest way for the demons to do this.

Morwen frowned at the sky. The sun would soon be peaking its rays over the mountain tops, and she knew that she would be dragged into a long meeting with her advisors, no doubt, once they had eaten breakfast. She dreaded the coming meeting knowing that Cassandra had filled them in on the recent inactions of their newly proclaimed Herald of Andraste. She was almost certain that there would be a good deal of lecturing from all three of the advisors. They would, undoubtedly, agree with the Seeker's suggestion that Commander Cullen train the elf in simple combat techniques.

If there was one thing that Morwen dreaded more than the meeting, it was the training that would most definitely follow. She had managed to keep her demons at bay where the Commander was concerned, but considering recent events she was uncertain of how she would react being forced into close combat.

She had no qualms with the man himself, just with what he was...or used to be. As much as the elfin lass tried to view the Commander as just another man, every move he made - the way he stood, tall and proud, the way he walked, purposeful and confident, the way he spoke, direct and firm -_everything _about him spoke of his years in the Templar order. Morwen had difficulty seeing past that.

_Once a Templar, always a Templar, _she thought grimly.

She wondered if she could possibly pacify them if she proved that what had happened was just a one time occurrence. Maybe she could even show them that she could handle a sword. They might believe her.

She pondered this for a few moments before moving to her dresser. Pulling out a simple, white cotton shirt and a pair of black pants, the mage dressed and then attempted to tame her wild curls. Opting against her boots, happy at the familiar feel of the ground beneath her feet, she padded out into the darkness, making her way swiftly across Haven. She hoped that she would be able to accomplish her goal before anyone discovered her.

The door to the armory creaked open angrily as the small elf peeked her head through the opening, squinting in the darkness . Cringing at the squeaking hinges, Morwen entered the massive room. A pungent smell hit the elf's nose. It smelled of an old barn with the very distinct odor of tanning solution.

Conjuring a ball of fire, Morwen viewed the room. It was hard to see in the dimly lit space, but the mage could make out the bellows-dark red embers still burning within the stone hearth. Work stations were lined with all forms of weapons and armor in different stages of creation or repair .

Finding a torch on the nearby wall, the mage used her flame to light it. The torch jumped to life, illuminating the dark room even more than her small flame had.

A loud creaking noise from behind caused the elf to whirl around quickly. The dancing light revealed skins of different animals stretched taut as they went through the process of being cured.

Exploring further, the elf soon found what she had been seeking. Several racks of weapons were lined up in the far corner of the armory. The weapons were mostly longbows, crossbows, swords, and daggers. There was a small handful of pikes and spears leaning against the wall.

Finding a hold for the torch, Morwen gazed at the swords. The quantity of each selection was lacking, but nearly a full range of sizes was present. There was a great sword, several long swords, and a handful of short swords. Her grey eyes studied each sword, wondering where to even begin in choosing the correct weapon. Indecision creased her brow, pulling the branches of her vallaslin into a tight bunch. As a mage, she never learned about the different swords and their uses. She never thought it necessary-until now.

Morwen decided to test the great sword. After all, it only made sense. . The bigger the sword the better one was able to keep enemies at bay. Taking a deep breath, the slight elf wrapped both of her slender hands around the hilt of the sword, and lifted.

"I wouldn't choose that one," a voice said from across the room.

The heavy weapon crashed to the floor as the mage spun, a ball of ice leaping from her hands and sailing towards the unknown person. Upon connecting with the doorpost, the ice shattered into a million tiny crystals, showering the figure just within the doorpost with little icicles.

The dim light from the torch cast shadows across the intruder's face; however, Morwen would recognize that stance anywhere. It was the Commander.

"Fenedhis," came the elf's startled cry.

"I'm sorry," Cullen apologized quickly, moving slowly towards the startled lass. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Morwen watched his approach, cautiously. It wasn't that she didn't trust the man; she didn't trust herself around him. Her nerves were already on edge from the recent encounter with the Templars, and from the nightmare still fresh in her mind.

Unconsciously, the elf took a step back, bumping almost immediately with a rack filled with daggers. Freezing, Morwen watched as the Commander walked slowly towards her.

Her strange behavior did not go unnoticed by Cullen. He watched her closely, noting her step away from him and the way that her grey eyes watched his every move. He wondered if she realized how captivating those eyes were. He had thought that they looked like moonlight the first time he had caught a glimpse of them. Now with the dancing light of the torch playing across her face they matched the color of steel.

"Was there something you needed?"

Her inquiry broke through the Commander's musings. _Maker's breath, _he cursed silently. She had caught him staring.

"I...uh...I noticed the light, and came to investigate," Cullen explained quickly. He was thankful for the dim lighting that hid his blushing.

He watched the elf shift from one foot to the next as she gnawed on the corner of her lip. She was uncomfortable and nervous, he realized. If he was going to guess at what was making her nervous he wouldn't be surprised if he was part of that reason. After hearing what Cassandra and Varric had to say over the Herald's mishap, Cullen would guess that she had a difficult past with Templars. One that was far from pleasant. What it was, he did not know; but it explained why she was always nervous around him.

Glancing at the ground, Cullen noticed the great sword still lying on the ground. Slowly, he picked it up and examined it. Cassandra wanted him to teach the Herald basic sword defense. She believed that the mage would benefit from it.

It was not unheard of for a mage to use a sword in combat; however, it was very rare. And, those mages were specially trained with their own swords which were created from the Fade.

It was a specialization of magic and the wielders were called Knight Enchanters.

Cullen wondered if there had ever been a mage who fought with both sword and staff, but none came to mind. He glanced at the elfin mage silently watching his every move. He wondered if it was possible for her to learn. There was one way to find out.

"Cassandra has suggested that I train you in basic combat techniques," he said carefully, watching her response.

She took a deep breath, "It is kind of you to offer, but I will be fine. I can teach myself."

"With this?" Cullen raised the great sword, "Not many grown men can wield a two handed sword without years of training."

"I just wanted to test the quality of our equipment to ensure that our soldiers receive the best quality weapons."

Cullen had to hide his smile as he listened to her try to bluff. "I see, so you weren't in here to try to teach yourself how to use a sword?"

The Herald opened her mouth to respond, and then closed it. Her silver eyes glaring at the man before her.

He smiled warmly as he spoke, "Maybe, if you allow, I can show you a few techniques in sword fighting. It will be for a week, maybe two, and it will get Cassandra off of both our backs."

Morwen couldn't deny that his suggestion made sense. She didn't have a clue how to use a sword, and there was the part about Cassandra leaving her alone. Could she train with the Commander? Could she trust him? Could she silence her demons long enough to learn what she needed to from this man?

Taking a deep breath, Morwen looked the man in the eyes for the first time. They were warm, inviting eyes that she had never noticed. For the first time since meeting him, Morwen felt that perhaps she really _could _trust him.

"Very well, Commander. Teach me what you know."


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello Dragon Age world! I hope everyone is having a great week. Mine is going amazing. Yesterday, I received the newest member to my electronic family. She is a wireless keyboard for my Galaxy Tab Pro that I named Lace Harding for everyones favorite Inquisition scout. **

**A big shout out to asteracaea for all of your editing expertice. For those of you who don't know asteracaea has recently finished her own take on the Inquisitor's story, Against All Odds, and is working on a sequel, Keep to the Stars. I would highly recommend that you check both her stories out. Trust me. They are amazing! **

**Sorry for such a long intro. I hope you enjoy this next chapter. Thank you for all the favorites and comments. They mean the world to me! You all are the best! **

**SWORD FIGHTS AND FLIRTATIONS **

The elf landed with a grunt. She licked her cracked lips and tasted blood. And while a quick spell with her magic stopped the bleeding, the metallic taste remained.

"Get up," a gruff voice demanded above her. Slowly, the elf stood. Sweat covered her entire being, and loose strands of her ebony hair clung to her face. The white shirt that she wore was almost completely covered in both dirt and splotches of blood,. Holes from sword point and tears from being scraped across the ground littered everywhere else on her clothing that wasn't already filthy, and one of her sleeves was sliced all the way from her delicate wrist to her elbow.

Muttering curses in her native tongue, Morwen glared at the Commander. They had been training for almost two weeks, and the elf was nowhere near defeating the man in combat. The past couple of weeks had been grueling for the mage. The Commander had been merciless in his training, treating the elf like a normal recruit. He pushed the elf to her breaking point and beyond, refusing to allow the her to use her staff, wanting her to learn how to depend on her skill with the sword rather than her connection with the Fade.

"Never assume that your enemy is defeated," the Commander explained. "Even when you have him on the run. A cornered animal is just as dangerous as a free one."

Morwen glowered at the man before her. It grated on the elf that she had yet to strike a blow at him. She seldom made the same mistake twice, yet even her best efforts had little effect. She could not break through his wall of defense. The man had to have a weakness. Every armor had a chink in it. She just had to find his.

Whispers of a time long ago replayed within the elf's mind - a time when life was easier, and things were simpler. A lesson from her mother danced in the recesses of her conscience.

"_Intimidation isn't just about size," _her mother's clear voice counseled_. "It's the way you hold yourself…" _

Shoulders squared.

"_It's the way you look them in the eye…"_

A proud chin raised and a slender eyebrow slowly moved upward in a challenging manner. As if to ask if that was all that the Commander had.

"_It's the way you move…"_

Slowly, the elf began to circle the man as a hawk circles its prey.

"_Intimidation is the way you get into your opponent's mind…"_

A coy smile spread across her face. The Commander _did _have a weakness. Morwen recalled once observing the man in the bar. Flissa, the barmaid, had a "thing" for the Commander. She was constantly flirting with him, and causing him great discomfort. The elf remembered how the man had become flustered at her all too forward attentions. It was painfully apparent that the fearless Commander of the Inquisition was incurably shy around women.

Her next few moves were crucial. The elf knew that she had to draw the Commander out without the man realizing what she was doing. If she were to succeed, she would need to use all of her charm to break his concentration.

* * *

The change in the elf's behavior did not go unnoticed by Cullen. He noticed how she stood straighter, how her steel-silver eyes seemed to be daring him to do better, and the way that her lips curved in an almost seductive manner. She exuded confidence as if she knew something that he didn't.

Readjusting his grip on his shield, Cullen observed the elf. Typically, he would not use the shield this early in training; however, the natural instincts of the Herald were hard to break, and he would often find himself ducking behind its protective wall to shield himself from the many spells cast his way.

Cullen wondered what was running through the mind of Andraste's Herald. She was difficult to read at times, and at the moment he wondered what was going through that dark-haired head of hers.

Pulling his shield into position, Cullen prepared for whatever the elf would bring his way. What she did next completely shocked him.

"When did you join the Inquisition?" quarried the elf as she thrust her sword at the Commander.

Cullen easily parried her attack before answering, "I was recruited to the Inquisition in Kirkwall. I was there during the mage uprising."

"Were you?" Morwen asked as she continued to attack, dancing around the Commander.

"I saw first hand the devastation caused," Cullen continued to block all of the elf's blows with ease. "Cassandra sought a solution and asked me to join the cause."

"I see," was the mage's reply.

For a few moments the pair dueled in silence. Cullen wondered what the mage could be thinking when she shocked him again with another question.

"Do Templars take vows? You know, 'I swear to the Maker to watch all the mages' - that sort of thing?"

"There's a vigil first. You're meant to be at peace during that time, but your life is about to change."

_Maker, _Cullen thought, _what is she getting at? _

It puzzled the Commander of the Inquisition that until this point the Herald of Andraste had been avoiding him. Now she was asking him about why he joined the Inquisition, and his Templar life. It baffled the man.

* * *

Morwen could see that she was slowly breaking through the warrior's defenses. Just a few more minutes and she would have him. She just needed to keep him off balance a little longer.

"What happens after the vigil?"

"You give yourself to a life of service. That's when you are given a philter - your first draft of lyrium - and its power. As Templars we are not to seek wealth or acknowledgement. Our lives belong to the Maker and the path we have chosen."

"I see," Morwen replied thoughtfully. It was almost time. The next couple of questions were key. She needed him so off balance that he would not be able to defend himself.

She feigned retreat as she asked her next question, "A life of service and sacrifice. Are Templars required to give up...physical temptations?"

Morwen watched in pleasure as Cullen's pale cheeks began to change into a bright red. He nearly stumbled in his advance, but caught himself.

"Why...why would you..." Cullen stammered as he fought to regain his composure. "Templars can marry - although there are rules about it, and the Order must grant permission. Some might chose to give up _more _to prove their devotion_, _but it is not required."

A coy smile played on Morwen's lips. She had the Commander right where she wanted him. Now to deliver her final stroke.

Swinging her sword towards her opponent's midsection, the elf felt the shock of the two swords collide. Just as she had known, the seasoned warrior had blocked her initial attack. Morwen allowed her momentum to bring her close to the Commander.

Pressing herself against the man as best she could with the two swords between them, Morwen looked up at Cullen. Her long black lashes hung heavy over her eyes as a seductive smile tugged at her lips.

Using her most alluring voice, Morwen whispered, "Have you?"

* * *

Cullen felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He felt his mind go blank. Jaw working furiously, he found himself at a lack for words. His brain raced with a myriad of questions.

_What just happened? Did the Herald just flirt with me? Was she just being curious? How do I even respond to that?! ? _

His mind scrambled for answers, but before he could recover he felt the small elf push off of him, knocking him off balance. A tree root, that he swore had not been there a few moments ago, caught his heel, and the man found himself flailing backwards towards the ground.

Once the world stopped spinning, Cullen looked up to find the Herald of Andraste holding both practice swords across his throat, a look of satisfaction and pride on her face.

She had finally bested him.

Morwen massaged her left shoulder as she made her way towards the Chantry. It still felt sore from her duel with the Commander earlier that morning. She smirked as she remembered his reaction to her flirting. The man had difficulty meeting her eyes after that. It greatly amused the elf that the infallible and usually calm Commander of the Inquisition could become flustered by the flirtations of a woman.

* * *

Her musings were interrupted by the cheery "hello" of a passerby. The elf smiled tentatively and waved. Since her return from the Hinterlands Morwen had slowly been getting to know the people of Haven. It had not been an easy task since her time was mostly consumed with war room meetings and dueling with the Commander.

She did, however, find time to visit Haven's clinic in her spare time. There she would visit with the wounded and the sick. She would spend as much time as she could talking and getting to know everything that she could about those people and their families.

Within the past two weeks the Herald had become a fixture in the clinic. All of the patients eagerly anticipated her daily visits. She could be found soothing the brow of a feverish child, helping to set and heal broken bones, and helping to ease the passage of a soul from this world into the next. Many an hour she would sit beside a sickbed, holding the hand of the wounded and ill, listening to them talk of their homes and families; on rare occasions she would even share a tale about her life in the Free Marches.

The mage's time since receiving the mark had not been easy, but if Morwen was honest with herself she _did _enjoy the trips to the clinic. There she felt as if she could be of _real_ service. Not sitting in a cold stone room discussing strategies and staring at a map.

Reluctantly, Morwen made her way up the Chantry stairs and pushed the heavy wooden doors open. She slowly made her way to the back room. She was not looking forward to another long meeting although she did hope that the Commander would give a good report on her sword fighting lessons.

Nearing the back of the Chantry, the elf heard voices coming from the war room. It would appear that the advisors had started the meeting without her.

"Having the Herald address the clerics is not a terrible idea." Josephine's voice reasoned through the ajar door.

"You can't be serious," Cullen objected.

Morwen paused momentarily, listening to the debate between her three advisors.

"Mother Giselle isn't wrong," Josephine continued to rationalize. "At the moment the Chantry's only strength is their united opinion."

"And we should ignore the danger to the Herald?" Leliana's concerned voice interjected.

Sighing, Morwen knew it was time to join the meeting. Squaring her shoulders, the small elf gave the door a decisive push and stepped into the room.

"Let's ask her," was Ambassador's reply as her dark eyes swung to the elf.

"If I knew what you were discussing perhaps I could give an answer," smirked the lass as she took in her advisors, also noting Cassandra's tall form to her left.

"Good heavens," Josephine gasped and then began to ramble. "I am so sorry. Of course you weren't present when the topic was first brought to light. My sincerest apologies. I..."

Morwen held up her hand, stopping the Ambassador's ramblings.

"I'm sorry," the Antivan mumbled one last time before motioning to Leliana.

"My agents have sent word from Val Royeaux," the Spymaster began. "Their reports indicate that they are having trouble gaining a foothold there. The Chantry clerics have worked the people into such a fear of the Herald and the Inquisition that my agents have been attacked and even arrested on some occasions. It is a highly volatile situation."

"I see. So you want me to walk into a pit of vipers." Morwen turned an accusing eye towards Josephine.

"They're not vipers just because they like to hiss," she countered.

"So you want me to go in there all by myself and..."

"No one said that you were going by yourself," Cullen cut in.

"And who's going to volunteer?" Snapped the elf, "I highly doubt anyone is going to _want _to walk into the devil's trap with me."

"I will go with you," Cassandra stepped forward.

Morwen could feel her eyes growing big from disbelief. She had not spoken much with the Seeker since their return from the Hinterlands, but she had assumed that Cassandra would be avoiding all assignments that involved traveling with the Herald.

Cassandra turned towards Leliana, "Mother Giselle provided names. I suggest we use them."

Shaking her head, the redhead protested, "You can't be serious."

"What choice do we have, Leliana? Right now we can't approach anyone for help with the Breach," Cassandra turned to the other two advisors. "Use what influence that we do have to call together the remaining clerics. Once they are ready, we will see this through."

"I will begin writing the letters to the remaining clerics," Josephine began scribbling on her parchment that she kept on hand.

"I will begin to ensure you have all the supplies for your trip," Cullen bowed as he exited the room. Never once looking the Herald in the eye.

Morwen suppressed a smug smile at the Commander's still present discomfort.

"And I will send word to my agents of your arrival," was the Spymaster reply as she too exited the room.

Morwen sighed darkly. She was not looking forward to another trip for the Inquisition. Muttering quietly, the elf said to no one in particular, "Well, it would appear that I am going to Val Royeaux."


	10. Chapter 10

_Wow! I apologize for how late this chapter is. I truly did not think that it would take me this long to post the next chapter, but with gaining more hours at work and trying to keep up with all of the housework time has gotten away from me. Also, my husband finally agreed to buying my PS4 early instead of making me wait until Christmas, and I have been very distracted playing DAI! Thank you for your patience. Hopefully I will have the next chapter out sometime next week. We shall see. _

**VIPER'S PIT **

Cullen ran a calloused hand down his tired face as he scanned the list of supplies for perhaps the hundredth time. Each of the items was just a small portion of an even larger list of things that needed to be ready for the Herald's journey the next morning, and he wanted to make sure that everything was provided and accounted for before she left.

**Waterskins **

**Salted Pork **

**Hardtack**

**Blankets**

**Tents**

**Weapons**

**Horses**

**Lyrium**

**Healing potions**

Placing the paper on his desk, Cullen massaged his temples. The headache which had started hours before had yet to ebb. He glanced at his wooden chest at the foot of his bed, knowing that in it lay the one thing that could take away the throbbing pain.

Gritting his teeth with the effort, the former Templar wrenched his gaze away from the box and, instead, out his office window. It was a cloudy night with a few snowflakes falling lazily to the ground. Cullen focused on the flakes of snow as they drifted through the air, willing his headache away as he stared into the night.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement - a form slipping from shadow to shadow between the wooden structures and alleyways. The Commander was instantly on his feet, and reaching for his sword. He highly doubted that this shadow was one of Leliana's people (she trained them to _not _be spotted). For a brief moment he considered the possibility that it could be one of his men being released from his watch, but the figure's build was too slight to be one of his warriors.

Grabbing his sword and cloak, Cullen cautiously slipped out of his cabin. Greeted by a cold gust of wind he tugged his cloak tighter around his shoulders and followed the shadow.

The slight figure moved steadily towards the western part of the wall. He observed as the mystery person slinked along the edge of the wall to where the wooden structure met the mountain. The figure paused only once before slipping between the rock and wood. Foot catching on an unseen rock the figure stumbled momentarily before regaining his balance. Cursing softly in elven, the figure continued away from Haven.

Without hesitation, the Commander followed the shadow. Not once did he think to call for aid - he didn't need it. By now, he was almost certain he knew who the figure was, judging by the surreptitious movements and other tells, and he knew exactly where she was heading.

It wasn't long before the outlining of the Herald's favorite hideaway came into view. Cullen wondered how often she came out here at night alone. It grated against the man's every instinct to think that she was away from any protection or help. And while he knew that she was quite capable of defending herself, it did not change the way that he felt.

Sticking to the shadow of the trees, Cullen silently watched as the elf entered the small clearing of pines. He felt the pull of magic as a small ball of fire formed in the mage's hand, its glow illuminating the shadows surrounding her.

Cullen was momentarily mesmerized by the elf's beauty in the dancing firelight. She had removed her hood, revealing long, cascading hair. It was the first time Cullen had seen her hair loose from its usual braid. The raven strands framed her oval face as her pointy ears just barely showed. The dance between shadow and light gave the elf and ethereal look.

Shaking himself from his trance, the man noticed as the elf knelt and began to mutter in elven. He soon realized that she was praying, and though he did not understand her words, he did hear the name Mythal mentioned several times. Cullen knew little of the Dalish customs, but he did know that Mythal was one of the most revered elven gods.

Suddenly, the lass stood and began to pace around the clearing, and he noted the way her brows pulled together, as if in deep thought. At first, he assumed that she must be praying silently when suddenly her pacing stopped and she lifted her gaze upwards to the darkened sky.A moment later, the most beautiful sound issued from her lips.

I pray you'll be my eyes

And watch me were I go

And help me to be wise

In times when I don't know.

Let this be my prayer

As I go my way.

Lead me to a place,

Guide me with your grace,

To a place where I'll be safe.

Cullen stood mesmerized. He had never heard anything as beautiful as her voice. She sang with such clarity and feeling, and he wondered if this is how the Maker felt when he first heard Andraste sing. The Commander of the Inquisition felt a thrill go through him as the elfin lass continued her song.

I pray I'll find your light

And hold it in my heart.

When stars go out each night,

Remind me where you are.

Let this be my prayer

When shadows fill my day.

Lead me to a place,

Guide me with your grace,

Give me faith so I'll be safe.

* * *

Morwen sighed as she finished the last words of her song. The singing usually helped, although, tonight it did little to ease her anxiety. In all honesty, she was nervous about the trip to Val Royeaux. She would rather face a horde of raging demons than deal with a bunch of raving Chantry clerics.

Words.

Josephine had said that they were just words.

Yet, the elf could not shake the feeling that more than words awaited her in the capital city of Orlais. She gnawed at her bottom lip as she attempted to calm her raging nerves. It would be fine. She could handle whatever was waiting in the strange city.

Pulling her hood over her face, the mage extinguished her flame and silently wandered back to Haven. Not once did she noticed the man hiding in the shadows.

Cullen did not know how long he remained in the copse of trees, staring at an empty space. He was unsure of what he was feeling. He saw a new side to the Herald that he had never before observed. She had always been strong and opinionated, and he had thought that nothing could penetrate that tough facade that she always wore. Tonight, however, he had witnessed a softer side to the Herald of Andraste, and he wasn't entirely sure what to make of it.

* * *

Val Royeaux, the capital city of Orlais, was unlike anything Morwen had experienced. The Sun Gates of the city were intricately fashioned after the rise of Orlais' first Emperor, Kordillus Drakon. The gates glittered in the midday sunlight, shining brightly in the elf's eyes.

As the Herald and her small troop passed through the gates, their eyes were greeted by impressive, gold roofed buildings with walls painted white and deep blue. Crimson drapings hung from the windows in a majestic display of color.

The Dalish elf couldn't help but stare at the grandeur surrounding her. She had never seen a human city so beautiful and pristine in all her life. Not even when she was a child in the Free Marches. Those cities were plain, and most definitely not as grand or pristine as Val Royeaux.

Making their way slowly through town, Morwen noticed a strange absence of people in the streets. Bells rang out in a woeful tune as a dark, somber mood settled upon the travelers.

"The city still mourns," observed Cassandra.

Morwen agreed. Just then, a woman passed them. The elf stared at the strangely clad Orlesian. It was not the dress that drew the elf's attention but the mask that the stranger wore, and the odd hat that sat upon her head. It was as if someone had taken a pillow and placed a feather on top of it then shoved it over her hair. The impracticality puzzled Morwen.

Before the mage could decide what to think of the strange hat, the woman took notice of the elf and her party. Glancing sharply at the foursome, recognition flared in her eyes. Gasping in alarm, the Orlesian woman hurried in the opposite direction.

"Just a guess, Seeker," Varric commented. "But I think they all know who we are."

"Your skills of observation never cease to impress me, Varric," Cassandra dryly replied.

Morwen smirked at her two companions. They seemed to enjoy getting on each other's nerves. On the trip to Val Royeaux, Varric tried a number of times to get the Seeker to play a "seeking" game. It never worked, and his attempts were usually rewarded with a disgusted noise from Cassandra.

Turning her attention back to the present, Morwen's eyes narrowed. Something wasn't right. She had assumed that the further they ventured into the city the more people that they would see. There was no one in sight, save for a lone figure running towards them.

"My Lady Herald," gasped the newcomer as she knelt before the elf.

"You're one of Leliana's people," Cassandra noted. "What have you found?"

"The Chantry Mothers await you...but so do a great many Templars," the scout reported.

"There are Templars here?" Morwen asked, slightly alarmed. She could already feel the panic beginning to grow in her stomach.

"The people seem to think that the Templars will protect them from..." the scout paused hesitant to finish the sentence.

"Go on," the Seeker prompted.

Reluctantly the spy finished, "...from the Inquisition. They're gathering on the other side of the market. That is where I believe the Templars intend to meet you.

The churning in the pit of the Herald's stomach increased. Morwen could feel invisible walls of fear closing in around her. Her demons screamed to be free. She should have known that Templars would be here. She should have listened to Leliana about this gathering being a trap. Panic froze all thought.

A slight pressure on her shoulder pulled the elf from her inner turmoil. Cassandra was gazing steadily at the young lass. Morwen stared into the dark eyes of the Seeker, willing for the other woman's confidence to boost her own failing resolve.

Taking a deep breath, she searched the faces of her other companions and pulled strength from their confident gazes. "There is only one thing to do, then," she said, moving towards the market.

_Into the viper's pit, _Morwen thought grimly.

* * *

On the other side of the market there was a crowd gathered around a raised dais. Several Chantry Mothers and a Templar stood on the structure, with one of the Mothers speaking to the crowd. Moving through the crowd, Morwen heard the woman speak.

"Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me! Together we mourn our Divine - her naive and beautiful heart silenced by treachery!"

Morwen moved steadily through the crowd, her eyes never leaving the woman on the dais. This was the woman that she was going to have to convince to support the Inquisition. The elf knew that it wasn't going to be easy, but she wasn't going to let this woman win without a fight. Stopping directly in front of the Chantry Mother, the Herald met the heated gaze of the other woman.

"You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more!" With great contempt and disdain the Mother gestured towards the elf, "Behold the so called Herald of Andraste. Claiming to rise where our beloved fell! We say that this is a false prophet. The Maker would send no elf in our hour of need."

"I make no such claim," Morwen responded vehemently. "I wasn't sent here by Andraste or the Maker. I am simply trying to close the Breach. It threatens us all!"

"It's true," Cassandra pleaded. "We only seek to end this madness before it is too late."

A disturbance to the elf's right drew her attention. A group of Templars were making their way towards the platform.

"It is already too late," The Chantry Mother answered as she triumphantly gestured towards the Templars ascending the raised platform. "The Templars have returned to the Chantry. They will face this 'Inquisition,' and the people will be safe once more!"

As the Templars ascended, a brutish looking one approached the Mother and hit her roughly on the head, knocking her to the ground. Murmurs of disbelief and shock ran through the crowd. The Dalish elf narrowed her eyes at the men. She may not have liked what the Chantry woman had been saying, but she did not condone an attack on an unarmed woman.

"What's the meaning of this?" the Herald demanded.

"Her claim to 'authority' is an insult. Much like your own," a voice belonging to a tall, dark haired Templar answered. His manner of standing and the the way that the other Templars stood respectfully behind him marked him as their leader.

"Lord Seeker Lucius," Cassandra's eyes widened in recognition, and she interjected. "It is imperative that we speak with..."

"You will not address me." The Lord Seeker dismissed as he descended the stairs.

Taking several steps towards the Templar, Cassandra hesitated, "Lord Seeker?"

Lord Seeker Lucius turned to glare at the Seeker of Truth, "Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as Andraste's herald. You should be ashamed." Turning to the crowd he addressed the people of Val Royeaux, "You should all be ashamed. The Templars failed no one when the left the Chantry to purge the mages."

Morwen chewed on her bottom lip vigorously. This was the sort of arrogant behavior that she had come to expect from the Templars. It irritated her immensely.

_Arrogant bastard, _she seethed silently. _If I had you to alone you'd wish that you were never born._ Biting her lip hard, the elf kept her thoughts to herself as the man continued his rant.

"You are the ones who failed. You, who'd leash our righteous swords with doubt and fear," Lord Seeker accused, raising a finger towards Cassandra and the Herald. "If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late. The only destiny here that demands respect is mine!"

"If you're not here to help the Chantry, then you just came to make speeches," taunted Morwen.

"I came to see what frightened old women, and to laugh," sneered the Templar. "I will make the Templar Order a power that stands alone against the Void. We deserve recognition. Independence. You have shown me nothing, and the Inquisition...less than nothing. Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection! We march!"

With that the Templars turned and marched out of the market and out of Val Royeaux, never once looking back.


	11. Chapter 11

**Well this was certainly a longer hiatus than I had intended. I do apologize for taking so long to post this chapter. It has been finished for a good two months, and I have just been plain lazy in posting it. In all honesty, I have hit a writer's block. There are several directions that I can take after this chapter and I am uncertain which route I should take. Please bare with me as I try to determine what it the best route to take for our feisty mage. Thank you for your continued support. You all are the best! **

**NEW ALLIES**

Morwen watched the retreating backs of the Templars with an unveiled distaste. "Fen'Heral ver na," she muttered darkly under her breath. She saw Solas glance at her, but didn't care that the other elf had heard what she said. She truly did hope that the Dread Wolf would take them.

Turning, Morwen noticed the Chantry mother still lying on wooden dais. She approached slowly, and the two women eyed each other warily.

"This victory must please you greatly," the Reverend mother accused.

"We only came to speak with the mothers," the elf defended. "This was not our doing, but yours."

"And you had no part in forcing our own hands?" countered the other woman heatedly. "Now we have been shown up by our own Templars, in front of everyone!"

Slowly, the fallen Chantry mother pushed herself to a sitting position. "Just tell me one thing," she pleaded. "If you do not believe that you are the Maker's chosen, then what are you?"

Morwen pondered the question. A few short months ago she could have told this woman exactly who and what she was. She would have told the human that she was the First for Clan Lavellan. She would have told her that she was a Dalish elf and, that up until recently, had no care for what happened to the Shemlins. Until a few months ago, Morwen knew exactly who she was. But, now, after having come so far, seen so much, she had no idea.

"Honestly, I don't know," the lass replied. "But I do know that there is a hole in the sky and we _all_ need to work together to close it."

The Reverend Mother studied the elf's face and, sighing, she admitted, "That is...more comforting than you can imagine. I suppose it is out of our hands now. We shall see what the Maker plans in the days to come."

"We certainly shall," was the elf's quiet reply.

Descending the raised structure, Morwen observed the bustle of the city. People moved solemnly and spoke in hushed whispered. They were, no doubt, discussing the events that they had just witnessed, and they were all avoiding any eye contact with the Herald.

Women in their overstuffed, fancy hats, ridiculously high collars, and masks lowered their gazes and brushed demurely the imaginary dust from their ornate gowns. The men, dressed no less ridiculously than the women, turned their eyes to the elaborate designs of the city's golden lion statues scattered throughout the market.

"That went over well," Varric's gruff voice pierced the elf's musings. "What next, Stormy?"

"I'm not sure. I suppose we go back to Haven and…" The elf's response was cut off by an arrow landing directly at her feet. Immediately on the defensive, the Herald's companions formed a small circle around her as they scanned the buildings for the shooter.

Glancing at the arrow, Morwen notice a piece of paper tied to it. Unfolding it, the letter read:

_**People say you're special. I want to help, and I can bring everyone.**_

_**There's a baddie in Val Royeaux. I hear he wants to hurt you. Have a search for the red things in the market, the docks, and 'round the cafe, and maybe you'll meet him first. Bring swords.**_

_**Friends of Red Jenny**_

At the bottom of the paper there were some drawings of the different places in the market that Morwen assumed were the different locations for the "red things." There was always the possibility that the letter was a trap, but even so, something told the elf that it was, at the least, worth investigating. Glancing at her companions, she asked, "Anyone up for a little scavenger hunt?"

* * *

Leliana gently stroked the feathers of her prized raven, Baron Plucky, as she fed him some cheese. He had just returned from Val Royeaux, bearing news of the Herald's latest exploits.

"Good job, Baron. You deserve a nice long rest," the spymaster purred as she placed the bird into his cage.

Turning to her table, Leliana smiled as she read the Herald's report. The elf had such a direct way of writing. She wasn't afraid to let the others know what she was thinking, and, often, Leliana found herself enjoying the elf's frankness. Her latest missive was no exception.

_**Advisors (I think that is easier than writing all your names),**_

_**The trip to Val Royeaux has proven interesting. The Chantry still won't support us, though I do feel that some may eventually come to our side. The Templars were waiting for us there and have refused to help, calling us all heretics. We will receive no assistance from them. No surprise, there. But, let's be honest; we really don't really need their help, anyway (although I'm sure the Commander is protesting that statement). **_

_**While in town, we did procure the help of a merchant. She should be on her way to Haven within the next few days. **_

_**We also have received the help of a rather interesting character. Her name is Sera. She's a Friend of Red Jenny. They're some kind of organization that goes around making trouble for stuck-up nobles. I'm sure Leliana can look into it. Anyway, she has agreed to help us and to provide information from her Friends. **_

_**Let the Commander know that we are sending a bag of pants to help "equip**__**" our soldiers. Compliments of our new friend. **_

_**Be forewarned, our new friend is rather unique and has some interesting ideas. Don't be surprised if she asks for bee grenades. She's been talking about how amazing they are non-stop. **_

_**We also had a run in with First Enchanter Fiona. She has extended an invitation for the Inquisition to come visit the mages at Redcliffe. The mages should be the perfect allies for sealing the Breach. I am confident that we can arrange a meeting with them.**_

_**We should be returning to Haven soon. I have received an invitation to attend a party hosted by some important big wig. An Imperial Enchanter or something. I will see what she wants and then return to Haven. **_

_**I'm going to have to find something to wear for this stupid party. According to Cassandra, it would be a good idea for me to dress appropriately for the occassion since I am representing the Inquisition. I think that it's useless, but what do I know. Perhaps Sera can help. She said that she knew a place that sold ready-made outfits. **_

_**Look for our return within a fortnight (if all goes well).**_

_**Morwen**_

_**Andraste's kick-ass Herald**_

* * *

"You have got to be kidding me," Cassandra muttered in disbelief as she caught her first glimpse of the Herald's new outfit. It was far from anything that remotely resembled the fashion of Orlais. The asymmetrical dress was charcoal black with one sleeve covering the elf's left arm completely while her right arm and shoulder sat bare. The high front revealed black, leather leggings, while the sides of the dress barely brushed her knees. A dark brown belt accentuated her waist and dark brown knee high boots completed the ensemble. ,

Beside the warrior, Varric quietly whistled. "Never thought that you cleaned up so well, Stormy," teased the dwarf.

"You only wish you could look this good," the elf retorted as she playfully punched him in the shoulder.

"Ow!" Varric grumbled, rubbing the sore spot. "We discussed this, remember? Delicate dwarf, here."

Before Morwen could respond with another gibe, Cassandra interrupted, "You cannot seriously consider going to Madame de Fer's party dressed as a street urchin!"

The Herald turned cool eyes upon the Seeker, "And what would _you _suggest that I wear? Surely not one of those pompous outfits that the people of Val Royeaux call fashionable?"

"Of course not!" The other woman exclaimed. "I simply meant that you should wear something a little more formal."

"For my people, this _is_ formal. Tell me Cassandra, if it was you going, would you wear a dress?"

"I would die before being caught in a dress. I…," Cassandra paused as she realized what she had said. "I suppose you are right. Fine, go as you are."

"Thank you for understanding," the small elf smiled.

"Josephine and Leliana are going to kill me once they discover that I allowed you to represent the Inquisition dressed like that," grumbled Cassandra.

"Don't tell them," Solas reasoned as he watched Morwen place her staff in its holder.

"I'm not the one who would blab," the Seeker replied, giving Varric a pointed stare.

"Who said that I was going to blab?" Varric asked innocently.

"Everyone knows that you can't keep a secret and enjoy torturing me," Cassandra growled taking a step towards the storyteller.

"Alright, you two," Morwen interceded, stepping between the duo. "Enough fighting."

Varric and Cassandra glared at each other for a brief moment before pulling away.

"Solas, make sure that these two don't kill each other while I am away," the elf requested as she made her way to the door.

"I will do my best," the other elf replied. "Be safe, Lethallan."

* * *

"Some say that when the Veil opened, Andraste herself delivered you from the Fade," the Orlesian noblewoman gushed effusively .

Morwen studied the the lady and her partner. Of all the pompous nobles at the party, these two were the only ones excited to see her. It appeared from the woman's account that some of the rumors about the Herald of Andraste had not all been negative. The small elf found it fascinating that even a few of the Val Royeaux residents would be entertained by the antics of a start up organization like the Inquisition. In any case, if they wished to believe such tall tales, then, by all means, she'd let them.

"Everything you've heard? Completely true," she confirmed.

"Better and better," the woman rejoiced. "The Inquisition should attend more of these parties."

"The Inquisition," a voice scoffed from the stairway. "What a load of pig shit!"

Morwen studied this newcomer. He wore white traditional Orlesian garb with a golden mask hiding his face. His walk exuded arrogant confidence. Contempt laced the stranger's voice as he continued to insult the Inquisition.

"Washed-up sisters and crazed Seekers. No one can take them seriously. Everyone knows that it's just an excuse for a bunch of political outcasts to grab for power."

"The Inquisition is working to restore peace and order to Thedas," the Dalish elf defended. The lass held no love for the Inquisition, but to hear another ridicule it made her blood boil.

The masked man sneered, "Here comes the outsider, restoring peace with an army!"

Stepping towards the small elf, the marquis glared down at her. Morwen matched the arrogant man's stare, sending her own stern gaze back at him. She should have known that a desire to do good would not wipe out years of prejudice and distrust. Shemlin would never trust an elf, let alone one who was a mage. Well, if this presumptuous fool wanted a fight she would not back down.

"We know what your 'Inquisition' truly is," he challenged. "If you were a woman of honor, you'd step outside and answer the charges."

Morwen reached for her staff as her aggressor reached for his sword. However, before either party could draw their weapons ice formed around the agitator, freezing him in place.

A calm, cold voice sounded from the balcony, "My dear Marquis, how unkind of you to use such language in _my _house...to _my_ guest."

A tall figure descended the same staircase that the marquis had used only moments ago. Her regal form commanded the attention of everyone in the room. Morwen wasn't sure why, but her gut told her that she was gazing upon Madame de Fer, First Enchanter Vivienne.

Circling the still frozen marquis, the poised mage continued, "You know such rudeness is...intolerable."

The Herald's previous assumptions about this mysterious woman's identity was confirmed when the marquis spoke.

"Madame Vivienne, I humbly beg your pardon," a tremor of fear laced the man's voice where once there had been arrogance.

"You should." The First Enchanter calmly gazed at her iced captive, "Whatever am I going to do with you, my dear?"

Having watched the proceedings curiously from the side, Morwen was surprised when her hostess addressed her.

"My Lady, you are the wounded party in this unfortunate affair. What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man?"

Realizing what the other woman had implied, Morwen considered her options. She could have the man killed; however, that seemed a little extreme for mere insults. Those were nothing new to the elf. She could let the man go, and assume that he had learned his lesson, but she doubted that he had.

Thinking, the lass tried to decide what the best course of action would be. She almost wished that she had Josephine or Leliana here with her. Both women were well versed in the politics of Orlais. She even recalled Josephine calling it a Game.

Then she had it. Insults and personal injuries were part of this Game that these nobles played. What better insult to the marquis than to pretend that she had no interest in what happened to him? What if she pretended that the things he said did not matter to her?

The elf shrugged as she answered, "The marquis doesn't interest me. Do what you like with him."

Smiling, Vivienne began to taunt the hapless man, "Poor Marquis, issuing challenges and hurling insults like a Ferelden dog lord.

Releasing the marquis from his icy chains, Madame de Fer continued her insults, "And all dressed up in your Aunt Solange's doublet. Didn't she give that to you to wear at the Grand Tourney? To think, all the brave chevaliers who will be competing left for Markham this morning...and _you're_ still _here_."

Observing the exchange, the Herald noted that Madame Vivienne was not someone with whom she would want to get into a verbal sparring match. The woman had an amazing way with words. Each one was as precise as a well aimed arrow.

"Were you hoping to sate your damaged pride by defeating the Herald of Andraste in a public duel?" Vivienne accused menacingly, "Or did you think her blade could put an end to your miserable failure?"

The marquis took the verbal abuse in silence. Either fear or the truth kept him from defending his honor, or, as Morwen suspected, both.

Finally finished with her insults, First Enchanter Vivienne waved a dismissive hand toward the now disgraced marquis, "Run along, my dear. Do give my regards to your aunt."

As the frightened man scurried out of the ballroom, the Enchanter's dark eyes turned to meet Morwen's and a cold smile curled her painted lips. "Come, my dear, we have much to discuss."


End file.
